


Daylight Hour

by phantom_rain



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, F/F, This...may or may not be exactly what you think it is, dark themes, the usual fixins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_rain/pseuds/phantom_rain
Summary: “I’ve died a thousand deaths, each time reinventing myself brighter, stronger, and purer than before. From the midst of destruction, I became the creator of myself. From the midst of darkness, I became my own source of light.”Sometimes we must welcome death and invite him in to have a seat before we can fight him.
Relationships: Bayley | Davina Rose/Carmella, Sasha Banks/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox
Comments: 33
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

Hours to days. Days to weeks. Weeks to months. 

A little over six months. 

A hundred and eighty four days if she’s being exact. 

A hundred and eighty four days that she’s spent isolated. Alone with no one but the shadows that follow her during the day and the demons that haunt her in the night. Isolated in her own little hidden section of the world where day by day she’s become more and more consumed by the darkness as she struggles to fight for the woman she once knew. The woman who swore she could handle. The woman who thought she was strong enough. 

That woman? That woman had lied. Perhaps she didn’t want to be fought for. Perhaps she had given up on the other side and decided that she wasn’t worth saving. Perhaps that she decided it was best that she move on, and let this new young entity manifest itself in her place. Perhaps she felt like she didn’t have the choice anymore. 

Her eyes are screwed shut and her knees are drawn up to her chest with her hand locked tightly around the front. Her skin is as cold as ice and the room is dead silent as the only notable noises are the erratic series of pounds happening in her ears. They’ve almost become rhythmic at this point. 

One pound. Two quick pounds. Three pounds. Stop. It doesn’t matter how she’s tried to alternate her breathing, that’s always been the result. With her eyes closed, it’s almost as if there’s a faint pulsating in the darkness with each consecutive beat. It resembles a tiny light and a hint of color that she can’t quite describe before it’s gone again. 

The entire concept of time has been all but lost, but she can just barely estimate that it might’ve been hours that she’s been like this. Judging by the way her arms and legs are beginning to cramp up, she certainly feels like it. It was probably the dumbest thing she could’ve done on her part, but she had to try. She needed to be ready even though the voices in her head continued to scream and remind her that she wasn’t. She had to try. 

It had been a mistake that had almost cost her greatly and she had just barely managed to struggle through the quick process. It didn’t come without a price as she was left struggling to find breath for the better part of thirty minutes and being rendered a complete stone mold for even longer than that. It had sent her into shock and for so long she found that she couldn’t move. If it weren’t for her heart in her ears, she certainly would’ve thought she was dead. 

As soon as she opens her eyes she wishes she hasn’t. The light of the bathroom reflects loudly off the tile and it brings harshness that nearly caused her eyes to ache. They travel downward over the droplets that still rest on her skin until they finally land on the base of the tub where lines of red continue to flow in a ghastly stream towards the drain. It almost feels metaphoric as she watches what resembles a river of death continue to run from its open body source. The source being her. 

A shaky deep breath and she unclasps her hands. They’re slightly shaky as she looks at them and much like the tub, they’re stained with red. It’s something she’s been all too familiar with and she wonders if somewhere she had been teleported into her nightmares as she begins to frantically scrub away. The scrubbing proves to be no use as she only causes the stains to spread. She leaves behinds handprints of red on the tub as she struggles to stand on shaking legs. A quick glance behind her and she finds the rest of the stream circling the drain before disappearing.

* * *

Sasha barely even recognizes herself as she continues to have a stare down with the woman in the reflection. A part of her wants to look behind the mirror as if to check if there is someone there playing a sick joke. Or perhaps another one of those demons possibly waiting for her to have a lapse moment of concentration so they can reach out and pull her straight into the beyond. 

Her eyes are bloodshot and sunken in and she swears she wasn’t this pale the last time she checked. Her red hair is damp and slightly crimped as it frames her face. As she reaches up, her hand tangles in the damp tresses, her fingers slipping through like a knife against silk. 

Eventually, her hand moves from her hair to gently touch her face. The woman in the mirror echos her movements. She reaches out towards the mirror, frowning as the woman on the other side does so as well. Watching closely, she tilts her head back and forth with her finger tips still against the glass. There’s a momentary lapse where Sasha swears her reflection stops moving. 

A frown on her face, she moves closer to the mirror and tilts her head once again and her heart stops when the woman behind the glass doesn’t move at all. Instead, she continues to stare back at Sasha with familiar dead eyes. Sasha takes a step back as the woman’s eyes soon appear to become dark and a sinister smirk splits her features. The reflection suddenly hisses and surges forward, plastering her hands and face against the glass. 

“Shit!” 

Sasha jerks back and she’s soon immediately aware of a sharp stinging in her hand. She glances down and finds her hand bleeding slightly at the knuckles.When she glances back up she finds herself once again peering at the woman behind the glass. Her reflection is duplicated and distorted from the cracks in the mirror. A few of the shards are missing and scattered around the counter, but at least that horrible face from before appears to be gone. For now at least. 

For the next couple of hours, her movements are slow and methodical as she packs, packs, and repacks the same bag three different times. On the last time, she nearly empties her belongings all together and resigns to the same positions she’s found her in for who knows how long. Curled up either in bed or on the couch miles away from anywhere and anyone who would have any business looking for her. 

But she knows she can’t. Not anymore. 

There’s only one more bout of hesitation as she loading the back of the car. The car that had been left behind for her approximately six months ago where she had made the choice to stay. She could’ve made the decision to pack up and disappear altogether, but that wasn’t why she had needed to get away in the first place. That would’ve raised far too many questions she wouldn’t want to answer in the first place. 

Taking a deep breath, Sasha takes one last look at the borrowed house that’s been a joint haven and a prison for the last several months. Swallowing thickly, she slips behind the wheel and takes several calming deep breath before she starts the car. She glances in the rear view mirror as she’s backing out of the driveway and she catches a glimpse of the woman from the bathroom. She frowns and slips on her shades, content to not deal with her for now.

* * *

The drive time was only an hour, but Sasha had opted to take the scenic route that added an hour or so on top of the initial trip. She needed time to herself...she needed time to _think_. To tell herself that she’s making the right decision on behalf of herself. That she’s doing what’s in her best interest and not the interest of anyone else.

Well.

Maybe that last part is a little bit of a lie.

Glancing at her watch, Sasha is surprised to see the parking lot so busy for it to be a little past noon on a weekday. She can’t fight the small smile that threatens to tug at the corner of her lips to see the place buzzing even in her absence. It makes her proud to see that this is the one thing in her life that’s held some aspect of stability, even with the bumps in the road they’ve encountered.

Sighing, Sasha slips through the front doors and she’s immediately overwhelmed with a sense of familiarity from the lights and colors all the way down to the sounds and smells. Her chest swells with warmth as for the first time in so long she actually feels like she can fool herself into believing she’s home.

Upon approaching the desk, Sasha smiles as the woman sitting behind it doesn’t appear to look up right away as she’s so focused on whatever notes she’s taking.

“Hey, if you wanna go ahead and sign in, I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”

Carmella blinks rapidly several times before her head snaps up. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open just a hair as the pen falls from her suddenly limp fingers. For a moment she does her best fish out of water impression as she’s stuck taking in the woman standing on the other side of the desk.

“O-oh my god!”

Everything happens in a flourish and Sasha grunts as she suddenly finds herself in a tight embrace. She just manages to work her limbs free enough to return the hug. A small laugh escapes her as she realizes just how much of her girlfriend’s tendencies Carmella has picked up. Now Sasha knows for a fact that she’s doomed.

When they pull away they’re still clutching each other at the elbows and Sasha can’t help but laugh quietly when she sees Carmella is starting to tear up. “C’mon, don’t start that.”

“No no, I know. It’s just been months, Sasha! I—” Carmella’s laugh is watery as she reaches up to dab underneath her eyes. “You’re here. Shit...and this! Did you do this???”

Sasha laughs again as Carmella’s fingers find her hair. “Yeah I...I did...figured it was time for a change, I guess.”

“Girl, it looks great! It definitely suits you!”

“Thanks,” Sasha accepts the second hug she’s offered. “Is Bayley anywhere around?”

Carmella perks up. “Yeah! She’s in her office. Well...your office,” she laughs before nodding towards the stairs. “Go on up, I know she’ll be stoked to see you. I’ll give you two your privacy.”

Sasha nods her thanks and with a promise to catch up later, she’s soon heading up towards her office. She draws several looks as she passes by the handful of classes currently taking place and she tries to fend off the chill that travels down her spine at so many people watching her. She mentally and physically shakes it off as she pauses just outside the door of her office. Well...what was once her office.

“I don’t care what you _claim_ happened. I’m going off of what you promised me, and you promised to have those machines to me two days ago!”

Sasha can’t help but smile and laugh quietly at hearing her best friend’s voice. She pokes her head just inside the door where she spots Bayley with her phone against one ear and her forehead resting on her other hand.

“I don’t care! You’re now on my schedule bud, and if I don’t have them by end of day to day, you and me are gonna have a hell of a lot of problems.”

Sasha continues to watch as Bayley groans and all but flings her phone across the desk before dropping her head into her hands. She chews her lip nervously for a few moments before she’s taking a much needed deep breath and gently knocking on the frame of the door.

Bayley lifts her head ready to tell whoever is at her door to fuck off but the words immediately die out on her lips. Her eyes widen as if she’s seen a ghost, which she very well might have. She’s out of her chair in a second as she quickly yet cautiously crosses the room. 

“S-Sash?”

“Hey...” Sasha’s jaw trembles and she’s unable to hold her tears back as she reaches out at wraps her arms around Bayley as tight as she can possibly muster. 

Bayley returns the hug with twice the force as she’s practically lifting Sasha off the ground. “Sash, it’s been...I don’t know how long it’s been! Christ, Sash I’m...this is real right?”

Sasha manages to pull away enough to wipe her eyes. “Yeah it’s real I’m...” she smiles shakily. “I’m back, Bay...”

“Christ...” Bayley whispers again as she shakes her head. “I’ve been so worried about you. I know you said you needed time but I couldn’t just not hear from you for so long like that without thinking something was wrong. But here you are and you look absolutely incredible.”

_‘I’m not sure I feel incredible,’_ is Sasha’s first thought, but she manages to maintain a smile and change the subject. 

“Mella about knocked me over downstairs. I didn’t say anything about it to her but...” Sasha pauses and smirks just a little. “I definitely noticed that ring on her finger.”

Bayley immediately blushes and rubs at the back of her neck. “Ah well...yeah. That...that’s definitely a thing...”

Sasha chuckles quietly. “It’s a good thing. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. That really means a lot. Especially coming from you Sasha.”

Sasha has to work to maintain her smile as she can feel Bayley’s eyes examining her and asking about a hundred silent questions. Questions that she’s not able to answer right now and several more she’s sure she ever will be able to answer. Clearing her throat, she instead moves around her office to sit on the edge of her desk.

“The place looks amazing. And busy,” she hums absently.

If Bayley noticed the shift she doesn’t say anything. Instead she joins Sasha and leans against the front of the desk. “It’s been crazy busy. I managed to work some new equipment into the budget and that’s what that call was about. It was supposed to be here a couple days ago,” she pauses and rolls her eyes. “Other than that we’ve been on the ups. We’re up 6% from when you left.”

Sasha beams and words can’t display how proud she is. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No Sash, c’mon...”

“I’m serious. I don’t. The way I just took off like that and dumped all this on you...you didn’t have to step up and do this, but you did and for that...well thank you isn’t enough.”

“Hey...” Bayley reaches out and gently touches Sasha’s though. “You don’t have to thank me for this, okay? I would do this for you twelve times over even if you didn’t ask. Heh, I’m just glad I didn’t burn the place down on accident or something.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and allows herself to laugh. A sound that’s been so foreign on her own ears for so long. As she glances around a place she once knew, she silently begins to wonder how things will ever be the same for her.

* * *

Being closed during the day means she can do whatever the fuck she wants. Well, being in charge means she can do whatever the fuck she wants, but still it’s the principle of the thing.

The lights are dim and the bar empty as she is in the very center of the dance floor surrounded by weights of varying sizes. She’s been at this for just a little over an hour now and she’s slowly starting to feel a bit of a burn. Her breath comes out in short puffs with each curl and with each flex, sweat slowly trickles it’s way down her biceps. 

“Aye, Boss?”

No response.

“...Boss...?”

Still nothing.

“Um...Ms. Lynch?”

Becky’s teeth clench tightly. “What!?” She throws over her shoulder, grunting as she doesn’t stop her workout. Her eyes narrow at the skinny fucker shifting awkwardly by the door. He’s new that much is fact, especially with that ‘Ms. Lynch’ bullshit. She has absolutely zero qualms teaching him about that later.

“The fuck do you want!?”

He jumps and continues shifting. “Uhhh there’s somebody here to see you.”

“Tell em they need a fuckin’ appointment and I’m not taking any today.”

“It’s some cute little redhead. She says it’s urgent.”

Becky frowns. She doesn’t know any fucking redheads and she doesn’t want to. “Well tell her to fuck off,” she angles her head over her shoulder just enough to make eye contact. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“Right, Boss!”

Becky’s eyes roll as she resumes each curl. She’s nearing a hundred and she’ll be damned if she misses out in that because some numb nuts has no idea how to take instructions. Clearly she’s got some work to do as far as teaching fuckers proper respect, but she’ll work on that later.

“Idiot...” she huffs as she’s now well into the nineties. Very little can be heard over her heart pounding and her quiet huffs of air, but still she’s able to pick out the sound of footsteps approaching her. Her eyes roll again. “I told you to tell whoever it is to fuck off and get an appointment!”

“I don’t need an appointment.”

The barbell hitting the floor echos around the empty club and Becky can only stare at it from where it slipped from her hands. Her eyes are wide and it’s suddenly become very hard for her to swallow. She doesn’t want to turn around because she can’t stand it anymore. She’s had this exact dream every single night for months straight. The same dream that keeps her from sleeping at night. She can’t take being taunted like this any longer.

“Becky...”

Her eyes close briefly upon hearing her name fall from those very same lips she honestly thought she’d never hear again. Swallowing once again, she opens her eyes and just barley manages to turn around. When she does, it’s almost as if her breath is stolen from her and she’s just barely able to speak.

“Oh my god...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaaack :3
> 
> I knew several chapters before Moonlight Hour ended that I was gonna need a sequel to completely unpack everything that happened because that story deserved to be its own entity. The sun has set and now...now we try to move forward. Hard emphasis on try
> 
> As always! Thoughts are welcome


	2. Chapter 2

Sasha’s eyebrows raise as she watches a series of expressions play out over Becky’s face. The way her eyebrows have suddenly come together, the way she’s standing ramrod straight save for the occasional twitches in her hands, and the way she looks beyond paper white. Almost as if she’s just seen a ghost which...she very well might have.

“Didn’t know you turned this place into a gym...” she knows it’s not the most tactical thing to say, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind as even she suddenly finds herself having a hard time coming up with much by way of words.

Becky is still for a moment before her gaze drops down to her weight set strewn across the dance floor. “I uh...no. I’m just...relieving some tension.”

“Oh...are you stressed?”

“Yeah I guess you could say that. When am I not, right?”

Sasha hums and for a moment they fall into a silence where they’re just staring at one another. Becky looking as if she wants to ask about a thousand questions and Sasha looking as if she has no desire to answer them. She feels herself begin to waver ever so slightly, and she finds herself needing to look away under Becky’s powerful gaze.

Crossing over a small distance, she sets her purse down before perching on the edge of a table. Her gaze is still elsewhere as she speaks. “Will you pour me something?”

Becky’s mouth falls open just a fraction and her eyes blink several times as her brain tries to mentally process the request. “You want me to…?”

“A drink. Will you pour me one?”

“Oh um…sure. I have wine if you—”

“Whiskey over ice is fine.”

If Becky’s jaw weren’t on the floor before, it certainly is now. She finds herself frantically searching her mind as she tries to remember the last time, if at all, she’s ever saw Sasha request and actually take something other than wine. Still though, she finds herself stepping over the mess she’s made with her weights and heading over towards the bar. She hesitates for a moment as she drops two small ice chips into a glass before she’s retrieves a bottle of single malt from one of the upper shelves. Against her wishes, her hand is shaking slightly as she pours a decent amount into the glass. She pauses, and for a moment she’s left staring into the amber liquid of the glass, but she’s soon shaking herself out of it.

With her gaze still angled elsewhere in the club, Sasha accepts the offered glass. She doesn’t much wince as the chilled liquid slips past her lips and slides down her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Becky just barely place a hand and lean against the table she’s sitting on. With all the quickness as if she had been burned, Sasha is sliding off the table and putting a decent amount of distance between the two of them.

Becky immediately took notice of the other woman’s subtle grimace and quick movements. “Sorry…” she mumbles as she awkwardly rubs at the back of her neck. “I’ve been working out here all morning.”

Taking another sip from the glass, Sasha’s jaw tightens and she’s slightly tilting her head. “That’s not a problem…” her voice then drops slightly. “But that’s also not what I smell.”

Becky winces and instinctively finds herself risking a glance towards the bar. Her eyes suddenly fall downcast and guilt manifests itself in a light dusting of pink just across her cheeks and nose. Dragging a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath and turns back towards Sasha.

“Sasha, I didn’t—”

“How is Charlotte?”

Once again in such a short amount of time, Becky is left stunned into a brief bout of silence. “I…Charlotte?”

“Yeah. You know, Charlotte? Big dumb blonde boulder. Sucks at running. You didn’t get rid of her, did you?”

Becky swallows thickly at the question as her brain processes the implications behind it, whether intentional or otherwise. “No, of course not. She’s, uhm, she’s good. Still working on her shoulder sometimes, but…Sasha…” she wanders away from the table and tries to minimize some of the distance Sasha has been deadest on keeping the moment she stepped into the club. It doesn’t take much to shake her, but ever since Sasha’s arrival, Becky has felt like her heart is about to give out at any given moment.

“How long have you been back? Christ it’s been…”

“Six months…” Sasha finishes off before dropping her head slightly. There are faint clinks as her nails tap against the sides of her glass. “It’s been six months, but I only just got back in today. It…was time I guess.”

Licking her lips nervously, Becky finds herself taking another cautious step forward. “Time for what, exactly?”

For the first time that afternoon, their gazes lock and when Sasha looks at Becky _really_ looks at her, she just barely holds back a flinch. She takes in the darkened circles under her eyes, the glassiness in her gaze, and those are just the handful of things she can actually describe. Underneath all that there’s something else...something haunted that Sasha can’t quite put a name to. Almost like she’s seen the same look on the strange woman she’s been at war with in her own mirror.

Feeling just a tad bit risky, Becky finds herself needing to take a much needed deep breath before she speaks. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, you know...” she mumbles quietly. “Even though I knew where you were, I knew what you needed and...I never stopped.”

This time, Sasha’s shoulders drop as she sadly shakes her head. “Becky don’t...”

“No, I know. Like...I still see what happened to you in my nightmares...and I’m sure you still see me in yours, but Sasha I just want you to know I never stopped. I can’t stop. I don’t know how.”

_‘Stopped what? Thinking about me? Screaming for me in the middle of the night? Loving me?’_

All of those things run through Sasha’s mind. Feeling her heartrate begin to pick up, she needs to close her eyes and take several calming breaths. A series of images flash behind her eyes, and she’s quickly opening them, right around the same time a hand is reaching out to gently rest on her arm. It’s in that moment that she suddenly begins screaming at herself, wondering why she let herself come here in the first place.

“Sasha…” Becky whispers, her voice cracking on the end of the name she hasn’t spoken in what feels like ages. “Please.”

Sasha glances down at the hand on her arm and swallows thickly. “I shouldn’t have come here…” she mumbles.

Becky’s eyes widen and she works her jaw for several seconds as she tries to find the ability to translate her thoughts into coherent words. “No, I…” another deep breath. “I’m not expecting anything, and I damn sure don’t have the right to request anything but can…I just want to talk. It doesn’t have to be today, or even tomorrow, or the day after. Whenever you want, but please…”

“I—”

“Hey Boss?”

Sasha finds herself interrupted and her head snapping towards the suit clad woman poking her head out of a rather familiar door marked ‘employee’s only’. Sasha swallows as she has no choice but to recall first and only time she’s been through that door. She immediately looks away, but she can feel the way Becky’s hand suddenly tenses on her arm.

Becky, whose jaw has clenched considerably, sighs heavily through her nose. “Can you give me a minute?”

“I…It’s kinda urgent.”

“Can it wait?!”

Becky winces when her own voice echoes off the walls of the empty club. She drops her head and her shoulders fall before she’s looking up again with finality. “Please. Just give me a minute.”

Sasha is gripping her glass so tight it’s a wonder that it doesn’t shatter right there in her hand. Becky’s hand on her arm feels like it’s burning straight through her skin and she finds herself shifting on her feet. When the back door closes, she instinctively pulls away.

Glancing down at her own hand as it’s left idle between the two of them, Becky looks back up to find Sasha watching her with a look of recognition laced with an underlying tone of pain. Her heart sinks as her hand falls limply at her side.

“You have to work…” Sasha mumbles towards the floor, unsure if it’s meant to be phrased as a question or a statement.

“I’m not…it’s not…”

“I think I should go…”

Reactively, Becky reaches out for Sasha’s arm again, an action that nearly startles the both of them. “Just to talk. Please?”

Sasha is still for a moment before her gaze falls to linger on the hand around her wrist. When she looks up again, she gently places her hand over Becky’s before carefully removing her arm. The nod is so subtle it’s narrowly missed but it’s there.

Becky can only watch as Sasha crosses the room to retrieve her purse before she’s leaving without a second glance. When the front door closes, she releases a heavy breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding. The hallowed echo left behind is something Becky has become all too familiar with over the past six months.

* * *

It’s late evening by the time Becky returns to her apartment. She feels as if someone else is responsible for the movement of her legs. If she were to pass into the afterlife, she’s quite sure this is what the personification of a ghost would feel like. A small grimace finds her face as she steps into the foyer and she’s immediately met with the sounds of the television filtering through to her ears.

She’s practically dragging her feet as she enters the living room to find the television in fact on and a rather familiar houseguest spread out across one of her sofas. Rubbing at the bridge of her nose to ward off an oncoming headache. Eventually, she’s left staring absently at the ceiling pleading with any god who will listen for just one second of peace.

“What’s the point of me paying for a place for you to live, if you’re just gonna end up on my couch.”

“Is that an invitation to move in?”

Becky’s eyes roll so hard it hurts as she tosses her keys onto to the bar. She rounds the bar and quickly retrieves a half empty bottle before she’s nearly overpouring the glass in front of her. She downs the glass in two single gulps before she’s slamming it back down on the counter. Her eyes slide closed as she immediately feels her headache slowly begin to subside.

Huffing, she pours another glass before she’s heading towards the couch. She makes it a point to stand directly in front of the television as she has a hand in her pocket while she looks down in complete disapproval. The corners of her mouth tug downwards as her eyebrows eventually drop into a familiar scowl.

Charlotte’s hand freezes about halfway to her mouth as she looks up and blinks innocently. She drops her popcorn into the bowl in front of her and frowns back at Becky. “You’re blocking the tv.”

“Good, it’s mine,” Becky clicks her tongue and nod towards the popcorn bowl. “You’re getting crumbs every fucking where. You’re gonna clean that shit before you leave.”

“Who says I’m leaving?” Charlotte huffs before stuffing her mouth full.

Becky snorts as she takes a seat on the edge of a chair. “That’s why you’re getting fat,” she mumbles into her glass before taking another sip.

Charlotte frowns and gestures towards the glass. “And what’s your explanation for _that_?”

Nearly done with her second drink, Becky places the glass on her coffee table before she’s dropping her head into her hands. “I got a visitor today…” her voice is muffled as she speaks. “Sasha’s back in town.”

“Sasha?” Charlotte’s eyes widen and she sits up just a little. “Sasha Banks?”

“You know any other Sasha’s?” Becky looks up and drags both hands through her hair before she’s gripping it tightly at the roots. “She came by the club today and she…god Charlie, it was like looking at a ghost.”

Charlotte can only watch Becky quietly while she appears to be still mentally processing whatever took place at the club. She knows firsthand the toll that Sasha’s disappearance and extended absence has taken on her best friends. There was a solid week where she spent cleaning up the broken glass of varying bottles Becky had shattered against the wall. Then that’s another thing entirely…the bottles. The excessive instinct that not even Charlotte can put a damper on, no matter how hard she’s previously tried.

Even she can’t help but feel her heart leap just a little bit at hearing of the Sasha’s return. Not that she would actively admit this out loud, but she had been incredibly worried when the woman just seemingly took off. Not that Charlotte could blame her though. After everything she had been through, time was definitely the most valuable form of healing.

“How…is she?” Charlotte isn’t even sure if she’s allowed to ask such a question given the circumstances.

Becky recalls Sasha’s gaze as if her eyes were left burning into her skull. The way she embodied the silent definition of haunted, fear, and long sought after rehabilitation. They were all things that whirled around so quickly that Becky hadn’t even had one time to capture one just long enough to hold onto it. Long enough to possibly explain herself for questions that have gone long unanswered.

Biting her lip, she shakes her head. “She’s different…”

Letting out a puff of air, Charlotte sits up completely while setting her bowl to the side. “Becks, she’s gonna be. It’s been six months…”

“Then why’d she come back? Why’d she…why’d she come see me?”

“Maybe she misses you? Kinda like you, maybe she still feels—”

“Charlie don’t,” Becky is quick to interrupt as she holds up a hand. She knows what Charlotte was about to say and now of all times is certainly not a time for her to hear those words. “I want to talk to her. I need to, but…that’s all I’m strong enough to think about right now. Not after everything that happened.”

Charlotte only nods quietly and doesn’t argue. Instead, she continues to sit quietly while carefully eyeing her best friend as she makes efforts to sort through her emotions. Charlotte also makes sure to take down her own mental note that she’s choosing to file away for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I'm left a little tense after this one for reasons nowhere beyond I wasn't sure how I felt about this bit of a reintroduction here. We've definitely got a long road ahead of of friends. Strap in. 
> 
> Until next chapter :3


	3. Chapter 3

The face in the dishwater has been taunting her for the past hour, making the action even longer and more drawn out than it ever needed to be. Each and every time she’s gone to submerge a dish, she has had to completely look away and she only gives herself the backwards count from ten before she needs to stop herself. It’s almost as if the liquid clings to her while burning and pricking away like a thousand tiny burning needles.

The water in the sink is stagnant and really, she can only attribute that to being the real reason she’s gotten this far. It’s just like all of those lonely nights in the bathroom where she’s just barely managed to fill her tub. Where she’s just _barely_ managed to sustain herself through the agonizing process of filling the tub before she’s rushing to turn the water off. From there, she’s left with her heart pounding fast and her hands shaking and braced against the edge of the tub while she battles her mind and fights tooth and nail to remember where she is. It’s a process she’s damned to go through every night, and unfortunately, such a mundane action as washing dishes has become no different.

Cursing under her breath, Sasha sets a plate in the rinse water before she’s bracing her hands tightly on the counter’s edge. Her grip is so tight that her hands begin to strain a ghastly white as her knuckles push harshly against the skin. Her jaw is pulled so tight it’s painful, and it’s everything she can do to keep from trembling.

_‘No, no, no, no, no…’_

The word has become a lyrical mantra in her mind as it produces nothing more than a hallowed echo. Her eyes begin to water and sting as she fights to keep from blinking; to keep from closing them even for a split second because she _knows_. She just knows. Her head shakes wildly, and tears slowly leak out but remain suspended just underneath her eyelids as the burning only seems to intensify by the second. Her hands strain uncontrollably as the solidity of the inanimate counter pushes back against her grip.

Against her own wishes, her body acts on its own accord and just for a second, she blinks. She blinks and when she does, she finds eyes unable to open once again as she quickly transported out of the kitchen. She’s back in that room. The chains, the braid, the hose. She sees it all and she’s left trapped in a corner watching as everything plays out all over again.

_‘No, no, no, no, no….’_

Her head shakes again as she releases her hold on the counter long enough to claw at her face. Her nails rake across her own skin creating an instant burn while her heart is pounding so hard against her chest it physically hurts. Somewhere, though, she’s just barely able to rationalize that the longer she stays like this, the harder it’s going to become to breath. It already feels as if some form of snake has snuck it’s away inside her and completely constricted itself around her lungs. Her lips are beginning to tingle as she fights for silent puffs of air.

Sasha’s eyes eventually fly open and with her chest still heaving, she just barely catches her own reflection in the dishwater. Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes are pleading, almost as if she is begging for any sort of assistance from the woman she once thought she could always count on. Instead, she’s only met with the imagery of the fear and panic she now feels.

_‘No, no, no, no, no…’_

A lone tear falls into the sink, causing the water to ripple and stir. Sasha can only look on in horror as the reflection morphs into an image she’s spent months running away from. Those green lips, that sick bloodied smile, all the way down to that single hole right in the center of the forehead. Those cold eyes watch her from the sink, and the sadistic smirk forces her to react.

“No!”

Sasha’s hand acts on its own as she’s roughly smacking the water. There’s a domino effect as her action creates an audible splash that travels the length of the counter, but also creates a spray that hits her directly in the face. Her blood immediately runs cold and she falls backwards where she lands with a thud, her head bouncing slightly off the kitchen floor. The trembles in her hands have become violent as she reaches up to claw at the droplets on her face.

“Sash…? Sasha!”

The voices. One of the voices in the basement. No. Not the basement. She’s not in the basement. She’s on the floor in the basement. _No. The kitchen._ She’s on the floor in the _kitchen_ and that voice…it’s not one of the voices in her head. It’s real.

Sasha’s eyes open and the image of Carmella kneeling over her swirls into view. She groans quietly before she’s sitting up to rest her weight on her hands. “I’m fine…” she mumbles out, immediately hoping that actually came out a lot more convincing than it sounded.

Carmella doesn’t buy it as she glances between her friend, the water on the floor, and the sink. “What happened?” her eyes narrow at the way Sasha groans again. “Did you hit your head?”

“Must’ve, but it’s not bad,” Sasha sighs and allows the assistance offered to stand up, though she does shuffle away quickly once she’s steady on her feet. “I dropped a pan in the sink and slipped on whatever splashed on the floor.” She risks a small glance in the dishwater, sighing quietly in relief when she’s met with her own frazzled reflection. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I told you, you didn’t have to wash the dishes,” Carmella shakes her head while leaning against the counter. “You can just leave them for later and I’ll finish them when Bay gets home.”

Sasha opens her mouth to protest, but a firm look from the other woman immediately silences her. She laughs quietly before holding her hands up in defeat. “Here I was thought I was being a good guest.”

Carmella rolls her eyes as the two head back into the living room. “You know this is practically your vacation home,” she laughs before plopping down onto the sofa. “I didn’t invite you over for food just for you to labor away after. That’d be kinda shitty of me.”

“Hasn’t stopped you in the past,” Sasha teases back. They share a subtle laugh, but even as she’s shifted her focus to gaze around the room, she can still feel eyes watching her. Her eyes eventually snap back to Carmella where her suspicions are confirmed. “What?”

Not ashamed at being caught staring, Carmella only shrugs. For a brief moment her eyes narrow as they flit back and forth, but eventually she’s left shaking her head before resting it on her hand. “I don’t know. You just seem…different.”

At this, Sasha raises an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just…different,” Mella chews her lip for a moment before she’s shifting on the couch to sit cross legged and face Sasha completely. “Do you mind if I ask? How was Boston?”

Sasha’s mouth opens and she promptly closes it before managing a tight smile. “It was what I needed it to be…” she shrugs, turning away from her friend as she appears to get lost in her memories. “I needed to do some soul searching, I guess. I rented a little place and just…I did that. Found time to just…find myself again.”

_‘Or at least try to.’_

Carmella’s eyes drop sadly as she folds her hands into her lap. “We were worried about you. For so long Bay…well, I think to an extent she still thinks it was her fault. Like she wasn’t there enough to help.”

Sasha takes a deep breath before nodding her head sadly. “I know and we…she and I need to talk, but right now I’m just trying to focus on being back, you know? Just trying to find my life again despite everything that happened.”

There is a long pause as Carmella can only watch as a series of unknown emotions play out across Sasha’s face so quick, she’s unable to pin any of them down and put a name to them. Even throughout their evening together, there’s been an edge of something there that Mella hasn’t been able to identify. Something that definitely hadn’t been there before, and she would like to think she’s known Sasha long enough to be able to read her like a well known book. Now though…something’s just different.

Once again, chewing her lip nervously, Mella hesitates on her following question. “Do you miss her?”

Sasha tenses at the question and the hand that Carmella can’t see resting on the other side of her thigh closes into a tight fist. Her eyebrows knit together, and her gaze drops to the floor as she mentally tries to process one of the very same questions she’s been asking and answering so many different ways for so long now. Eventually, she’s just left shaking her head, though the action has very little to do with an answer she’s not quite sure of.

“I haven’t thought about her much,” it’s a lie and Sasha knows it and to an extent, she knows Carmella damn well knows it as well. “I’ve tried not to. Not that I want to forget, but…because it hurts way too much.”

Accepting this answer, for now at least, Carmella nods solemnly. “I know this probably won’t mean much, but…Sasha I’m sorry. I…don’t exactly know what happened and I’m not really _gonna_ know what happened, but I just want you to know, you don’t have to deal with it alone anymore. We can talk about it, we can not talk about it, whatever you need. If you ever just…want to come over and just sit in silence over a bottle of wine, we can do that. Whatever you need.”

Sasha’s head once again falls just a fraction as she begins to play with her hands on her lap. A small pang of guilt slowly beings to well up in her chest. It’s a familiar feeling of what she felt right around the same time she left. The same time she opted to not only keep her friends in the dark for obvious reasons, but also the blatant fact that she _needed_ to get away. She knows exactly what she needed and why, but she still can’t help but feel a little sick at the strain it put on her friends. Her family.

“Thank you…” the words are whispered and they’re so quiet they somehow manage to nearly get lost in the still air of the room. There’s a small amount of shuffling to her right and she soon feels a hand slipped into her own. She nods and says nothing when after a few moments of still silence, she’s giving that hand a small squeeze.

* * *

The city is a lot more vibrant than she last remembers, but she soon attributes that to the fact she’s spent the past half year feeling like she was on the edge of nowhere. The lights and sounds somehow to call the raging storm in her head while she continues to shuffle down the street with her hands in her pockets. The truth of the matter is, she’s been doing a lot of walking since she’s been back. It’s been literally one of the only options she’s seen acceptable as on many occasions she doesn’t much trust herself to drive. Besides, for her, walking just gives her time. It allows her to focus on something other than the war she feels like she’s consistently losing.

Even beneath her coat, she can feel the faint chill of the evening air and for a brief moment, she pauses and looks towards the sky to take in the darkened clusters of fluff scattered in the sky. The moment reminds her of when she was a child and she used to spend time outside imagining painted shapes as they float by against a blue canvas. A time when imagining didn’t seem like one of the most horrible sentences right after death.

There’s a small bump to her shoulder, and Sasha is brought back to reality. She smiles a small apology to the passing individual as she hadn’t realized she had stopped right in the center of the sidewalk. She tucks her hands back into her coat pockets as she continues to blend in with the rest of the city.

Her feet carry her only a few blocks further before she finds herself stopping again. This time, she makes sure to veer off to the side as she once again finds herself looking up towards the sky. Only this time, she’s not focused on the sky at all. Instead, she’s hit with an overwhelming sense of familiarity as she realizes exactly where she is. She knows this building, probably one of three places she knows better than anywhere else in the world.

She’s less inclined to give any attention to the luxury condos occupying the lower levels of the high rise. Instead, her attention travels to the penthouse that sits at the very top resembling an overwatch tower. Swallowing thickly, Sasha only continues to stare, nearly craning her neck as she continues to look towards the very top. She isn’t sure if it’s the crystal clear air of the night, or the way the lights reflect, or even her imagination, but she swears she can see a figure leaning against the railing. The figure is nothing more than an outline, but even from street level, Sasha can make out even it’s faintest movements as if she were up there with it. She inhales deeply and it’s almost as if she is singling out the familiar smell of nicotine and tobacco mixed with just a hint of mint. Sasha swears she can see the smoke coming right off the figure itself.

“Miss?”

The observational moment is broken, and Sasha looks down to find the doorman of the building smiling at her softly. She returns his gentle smile with one of her own.

“Is there someone you’re maybe looking for?”

“No I…” Sasha looks up again and for a brief moment the corners of her lips tug downwards. She forces her smile to return before she’s looking at the doorman with a soft shake of her head. “I don’t know anyone who lives here…”

Bidding the man goodnight, Sasha is once again taking her place as a nameless faceless number on the sidewalk. The rest of her walk is uneventful and filled with silence as she takes a more scenic route to get home. On more than one occasion she’s found herself stopping to observe as she passes by a few couples joined hand in hand as they walk the city. She’s left angling her head sadly as she continues to float past them.

The journey up to her own front door passes by so quick, Sasha has to take a moment to recall how she even got here in the first place. A short, but bitter laugh escapes her, and she’s reminded why she’s been opting on these walks. The last thing she wants or needs for the matter, would be to be out driving and to get lost in her own headspace.

“Bout time. Was starting to wonder if I was gonna have to make a pallet out here on the floor or something.”

Sasha freezes from where she was putting her key in the door, and she can’t help the wide genuine smile that tugs at her lips. She unlocks the door, but she doesn’t go much further than that as she angles her head to the woman casually leaning against the wall not to far to her right. Immediately, Sasha’s eyes roll, but the action is borderline playful.

“Pallets on the floor are especially reserved for people like you.”

“Ooo, ouch. I’ll have to keep that in mind if I ever wanna sleep over.”

Rolling her eyes again, Sasha eventually pushes her door open before she’s entering her apartment. She takes note to leave the door opened behind her and she’s unsurprised when footsteps quickly follow her, and the door is soon shut. She takes a second to set her purse down before she’s all but launching herself into the other woman’s arms.

Charlotte lets out a soft ‘oof’ at the arms that suddenly wrap tightly around her torso, but she’s soon finding herself immediately returning the hug. “That…is definitely not the welcome I was expecting, but I’m gonna take it.”

“Well, not really the one I was expecting to give out either,” Sasha mumbles, her voice slightly muffled from where her face is pressed into Charlotte’s jacket. After a long moment, she eventually pulls away before she’s frowning up at Charlotte. She blinks for a moment before she looks between them and pokes Charlotte in the side.

Charlotte immediately flinches at the action. “Hey! What!?”

“Nothing, you just…” Sasha’s frown is still in place as she pokes her a few more times. She then snorts quietly. “You’ve gotten kinda pudgy.”

“Okay, excuse you...you know what!” Charlotte is quick to pull away from the hug and tightly fold her arms while a light dusting of red appears at her cheeks.

Sasha giggles quietly and shrugs before she’s slipping her coat off and hanging it in the closet by the door. “Just an observation,” she tosses back, offering to take Charlotte’s jacket as well. “How’d you know I was back?”

Charlotte only raises an eyebrow as if to silently say ‘c’mon, really?’, but that’s just about all she does. She shrugs her shoulders as she crosses the room to take a seat on the edge of the sofa. “I figured I would stop by on the off chance you would be here and actually want to see me.”

Sasha smiles sadly as she takes a spot on the other end of the couch. She tucks both her feet underneath her before running a hand through her hair. “So, she didn’t send you?”

“Of course not. She knows…well, I’m not sure what she knows right now, but she knows not to do something stupid like that. I came here on my own. I would say it’s ‘cause I missed an annoying little blueberry, but…” she reaches over and tugs on the end of a strand of Sasha’s hair. “Seems like Little Red might be more fitting now. It looks good. It’s different.”

With everything that happened, the two had formed something of an unexpected friendship. Though it hasn’t exactly been said between either of them, but nearly dying with someone also creates a type of bond that’s rather difficult to explain. It’s a bond that Charlotte can equate to feeling during one of the earlier times she had known Becky.

“Thanks…” Sasha whispers quietly while once again brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s just…a change I guess.”

Charlotte only hums and she takes a second to examine the woman across the couch. Becky had definitely been spot on when she said Sasha was different and even with the warm welcome, Charlotte had picked up on it as soon as Sasha had stepped into the wall. Not just from noticing the hair, but even down to the way she physically carried herself. If it were anyone else, the subtlety might have been missed, but Charlotte’s entire profession is picking up on the little things.

“She wants to talk,” Sasha says out of nowhere as she opts to just rip the looming question off like a band-aid. Not that she has any doubt that Charlotte doesn’t already know this, but she still feels the need to be straight up about it anyway.

Humming again, Charlotte sits back against the couch. “And what do you want?”

“I want…” Sasha trails off as she is made to realize that this isn’t one of the thousand questions that have prioritized themselves in her mind.

_‘What do I want? My life back? My sense of security?_

_…Becky?’_

“I…” Sasha gets so lost on the question that it nearly makes her head hurt. The fact that she can’t answer with any form of certainty scares her and she’s left shaking her head while staring absently across her own living room.

“I don’t know…”

* * *

When her eyes open, she immediately slams them shut as the decision to open them in the first place had been one of the worst of her life. Her head is pounding something terrible and even though everything is closed up and dark, she feels like she’s swimming. Well, she feels like she’s doing something that passes off as a sad excuse for swimming.

In reality, she’s spread out on her stomach across the floor of her garage. She becomes aware of this when she forces her eyes open again and she’s immediately met with the swirling image of a tire. She just barely lifts her cheek from the ground enough to see that the driver’s door to her Range is in fact open, but glancing around, she finds that the keys are strewn an arm’s length away right next to her gun. Her hand is tightly closed around the neck of a bottle and upon further examination she sees that the bottle has somehow broken off into three separate pieces, the largest piece being the bottom that holds maybe a single swallow of clear liquid left.

The action of turning over proves to be damn near impossible, but Becky just barely manages to do so. She quickly sits up and turns over onto her hands and knees just in time to keep from vomiting on herself, though that does very little to stop from the near clear bile from splashing over her hands. Even as there is nothing left, her body only continues to heave and wrench itself dry, creating a feeling that is nearly worse than death. Hyper aware of her own weakness, she eventually slumps to her side and rolls over onto her back, once again allowing her eyes to slip closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be more imagery than anything else, so I sincerely hope that landed.  
> Thoughts always welcome :3 until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

The broken shards are something that she has become painfully familiar with over months. Before her stands that same woman. The woman who is constantly staring back at her with the oxymoronic look of recognition and unfamiliarity. The woman she’s been at war with. The woman she’s constantly _losing_ to. 

What has bothered her most about the woman is her constant omnipresence. How she feels that this woman is always there. Always watching her. Always… _waiting_ for her to make one wrong move so she can spring forward and loudly display the reminders about who she is, who she isn’t, and everything that just so happens to fall in between.

Sasha has grown to absolutely hate this woman.

The cracks in the reflection only serve to taunt her even more because if anything, there only seems to be more of her. The woman stares back in duplicates with that same stare she hasn’t been able to get out of her mind. When she reaches out, three separate shards are smeared with red. For a brief second, her eyes dart down to her fingers painted with red, but she doesn’t feel the pain. She rubs her fingers together, feeling a warm stickiness before she’s placing her hand back against the glass. Slowly, she draws her fingers across the broken shards, smearing five jagged lines resembling uneven streams. The action has no effect on the woman, who only continues to stare back.

“Sash, you good?”

Sasha’s eyes slip closed at the sound of her best friend’s voice. She sounds so close that Sasha swears she’s right behind her. The oddity of the matter is, she doesn’t feel her. She doesn’t feel anything. The only thing that she could say even comes close to a remnant of feeling is the coldness she’s long since adopted as a part of her new normal. That’s about the only thing she feels.

Her eyes open again, but immediately something’s off about the woman in the mirror. She looks exactly the same, trapped behind the shards and streaks of red. Only, she’s smiling. The smile is so sinister it nearly makes Sasha nauseous with how much it shakes her initially. Blinking several times, the woman hidden in the shards doesn’t mimic the action. Instead, she only slightly angles her head to the side as her sickly smirk seems to widen.

“I’m…I’m fine, Bay.”

Sasha hears the words. She hears _her own_ voice, except the action isn’t reflected. The woman only continues to stare back at her as her head slowly tilts back to the other side. Sasha frowns and lifts her hand to press against the glass, but the woman doesn’t do the same. Her smile begins to split impossibly wider and red can be seen forming at the corners of her mouth.

“Sash? What’s going on?”

Sasha quickly shakes her head but remains wide eyed as the woman continues to move on her own accord. “Bay, I said I’m fine.” Even sounds unsure.

“Can you look at me, so I can know for sure?”

She almost has to tap into physical strength to turn herself away from the reflection, but she does. She manages to whip around in search of the voice that had been calling out to her, but when she does, she wishes she hadn’t. The way her heart suddenly slams to a stop is painful and nearly gives the rest of her internal whiplash. On instinct, she takes a half step back, but the sound of broken glass crunching underneath her foot, startles her.

There’s maybe a total of two meters between them, but that’s two meters two few. They nearly stand about eye level with one another, but Sasha wouldn’t have known that because the first and the last time they’ve ever encountered, she was either on her knees or upside down. Even in her nightmares, that’s how things were. Now, this is the first time they’re standing face to face, and somehow, Sasha still feels like she’s been confined to her knees.

A quick glance behind her towards the shattered mirror and she’s only met with emptiness. A darkness replacing what she has grown so used to. Even the woman that seemingly hates her the most knows when to abandon her. When she turns back around, those two meters have been slashed in half and Sasha’s eyes immediately widen as the bullet hole in the woman’s forehead slowly begins to bleed.

“Sash, what’s wrong?”

Sasha’s eyes instinctively dart down to those green lips as they move. It’s…not right. None of it is right as the question is repeated and it’s the same voice as before. The same voice that spoke to her the first time. The same voice of her best friend. But that’s not…

“No, no, no, no, no…” Sasha reaches up and clutches her head. She shakes it quickly and squeezes her eyes for a brief moment, before she opens them again. She yelps when she does because _she_ is closer. Much closer. They’re practically sharing the same space and Sasha finds herself stumbling back just a fraction before she’s stopped by the wall.

Swallowing thickly, she can only force herself to look into those black eyes. She licks her lips and her voice is hoarse as she speaks. “Wh…what do you want from me?”

The laugh that follows is all too familiar. It’s a laugh she’s become familiar with the entire duration of their friendship. The laugh she’s usually rolling her eyes at when she’s bested in boxing or in Mario Kart. The same laugh that reminds her of home and consistency and family.

But none of that matches now.

“Leave me alone,” Sasha tries to quickly move past, but she finds herself harshly thrown back into the wall. The action winds her momentarily and her eyebrows furrow together as a hand comes up to wrap tightly around her throat. “P-please leave me alone. I don’t have anything for you.”

“But _Sash_ …you took _everything_ from me.”

While clawing at the arm of the hand that’s got her tightly by the throat, she finds herself losing air as the edges of her vision begins to blur. With her free hand, she just manages to form a fist because she’s swinging with everything she has. She finds herself taking large, greedy gulps as her lungs are finally granted a moment’s peace. That peace doesn’t last long as a well placed kick to her stomach sends her to her knees.

Tears leak from her eyes as she clutches her abdomen. “Please. Please just leave me alone.”

There’s a click and something cold is pressed to her forehead. Sasha’s eyes look up to find a ghastly familiar silver handgun pressed to her forehead. On instinct, her jaw trembles as more tears begin to spill for her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Blue and pink is now streaked with red as the bloodied hand not holding the gun rakes through the tresses. “I’m here with you, Sash. I’m gonna be right here.”

Sasha shakes her head. “No, no, no, no, no…” her chest begins to heave. “You’re not real. I swear you’re not real.”

“I’m real, Sash. You can see me, right? I’m right here.”

She doesn’t know where it comes from or how she manages, but Sasha finds herself quickly reaching out to grab the arm with the gun against her head. Wrapping a hand tightly around the wrist, she manages a takedown that sends the gun skidding across the floor with a clatter. Immediately, she begins applying pressure to the wrist.

“Fuck! Sasha!”

She bends it back even more.

“S-Sasha, you’re gonna fucking—”

Sasha tries to throw a punch, but her fist is caught. She tries to yank it back, but she’s left stuck almost as if she were trapped in dried cement. Her breathing begins to pick up as the grip she has begins to lax. She finds herself trying anything she can do to free herself from the vice hold on her fist.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

Her eyes are squeezed tight and she shakes her head while repeating the word over and over. Eventually, everything begins to slow down, and all sounds begin to fade away. Her lips feel fuzzy and the pounding in her head nearly feels like it’s splitting her skull. The last thing she hears are the rapid thumps of her own heartbeat before everything goes silent.

* * *

“Hey, I came as soon as you called. What happened?”

“I…” Bayley trails off while slowly shaking her head. She currently has an ice pack wrapped around her wrist and she’s left shaking her head once again as she tries to process what happened just a little over an hour ago. “I actually don’t know…”

Carmella huffs and glances between her fiancée and the woman laid out across a couch in the rest area. Even though she knows it’s been a while since the gym has closed for a day, she can’t still but feel a bit uneasy about _something_. Perhaps it was the way Bayley had called her at random and asked if she could come down. Something about Bayley’s tone and left her a bit unsettled and now she sees why.

Wincing at the pain in her wrist, Bayley sighs. “She was working out pretty heavily on one of the bags. She bloodied up her hands real bad and I didn’t notice she hadn’t even wrapped them up until I saw the blood everywhere. I tried to say something and she just…Christ Mella, I don’t even know.”

“What happened to your wrist?” Carmella frowns as she finally notices the ice pack.

“I tried getting her attention. I was talking to her and she wasn’t really listening, still going in on the bag. I touched her and she grabbed hold of me. She about took my whole hand off, I thought she was gonna break it. She…just kinda passed out after that.”

Carmella’s face screws up momentarily as if she’s recalling something. Eventually, she’s left shaking her head sadly. “Sounds like she might’ve been having a panic attack…” she mumbles.

Bayley’s frown only deepens. “That…I’ve only seen her get like this once before and that was right around the time Ripley’s drug shit was getting real bad…” she falls silent for a moment before her eyes widen. “You don’t think she’s fucked with Sasha somehow, right?”

“No, I mean…I don’t know. I think Sasha would’ve said something if it was that,” Carmella shakes her head again. 

“Well there’s something she’s not saying,” Bayley huffs, “I’ve been meaning to ask her about it, but just haven’t had—”

There’s a groan from the couch and the couple’s eyes simultaneously snap towards the woman who’s starting to shift. Over on the couch, Sasha continues to groan quietly while she brings a hand up to her forehead. The blanket she had been resting under falls down past her elbows and eventually her eyes blink open.

A frown pulls at her lips as she spots her two friends watching her closely, and she needs to take a quick glance around as she’s reminded where she is. “Hey, what...what’s going on?”

“We don’t know…” Bayley responds, her original look of worry still firmly in place. “Was hoping maybe you could tell me?”

Sasha blinks several times as her eyes fall down to the ice pack around her best friend’s wrist. Her eyes widen momentarily before she’s looking back up at Bayley. She opens her mouth and has to reformat her words several times before she says anything. “I’m…I think I must’ve pushed myself too hard.”

“Must’ve?” Bayley answers back.

Looking between the two, Carmella quietly clears her throat. “I’ll…go find some water for you, Sash…” she mumbles quietly, before skirting away from the two who obviously need to have some form of a talk.

Sasha finds herself suddenly hating Carmella’s absence, but nevertheless, she manages to sit up and rest against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” she mumbles as things start to come back to her all too vividly. “I really do think I pushed myself too hard.”

“Sash, that can’t…” Bayley sighs heavily before moving closer to sit on the other end of the couch. “You didn’t look like yourself out there. It’s almost like…you saw something.”

“I’ve…had a lot on my mind lately,” which isn’t a complete lie and it’s everything that Sasha can do but to hope that Bayley accepts that.

Unfortunately, it was all wishfully thinking as Bayley is quickly shaking her head. “I’ve seen you when you’ve had a lot on your mind. This…this is almost something I’ve never seen. I…” she takes a deep breath. “Did something happen? While you were gone?”

Sasha frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I…I mean you left and came back and you just…it’s almost like you’re wanting to pick up where you left off, but you’re not ready? You’re different, Sash.”

“Well yeah, I’m different,” Sasha snorts bitterly and folds her arms. “I’m single. That was kinda fresh and new when I left.”

Bayley chews her lip in hesitation. “And now…?”

“Now it…it still fucking hurts…” Sasha mumbles while shaking her head as she processes the words. Again, it’s not a lie, but it’s not anywhere near to being close to the realms of the complete truth. Because the truth…some people are meant to be spared from that truth.

“Sasha I don’t…you know you can talk to me right?”

“Of course, I know that.”

“Do you? Because I feel like there’s some kinda distance between us and if it’s something I did or something that’s happened I just want to know how I can—”

“Can you stop!?” Sasha immediately closes her eyes as she hears her own voice echo through the emptiness of the gym. She doesn’t have to turn her head to know that Bayley is looking at her with that all too familiar wide, doe-eyed stare. It’s the same stare she’s gotten about ninety percent of the time in the short time she’s been back.

“Bay, I didn’t I’m…” a heavy and aggravated sigh. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, okay? Just trying to get used to being back without…things being like they were before.”

There’s so much that Bayley wants to say and it’s plenty left to the unknown as to why or how she manages to stay quiet. Maybe it’s because after everything she’s seen this evening, she knows that _now_ , may not be the best time to push. Studying Sasha closely, she sees that there is so much off and different about her friend and it irks her that she can’t do a damn thing about it in the moment.

“Whenever you’re ready…” she mumbles dejectedly.

Barely glancing at her friend’s wrist, Sasha feels overrun with guilt. Taking a deep breath, she’s quickly throwing the blanket off of her and standing from the couch. “I have to go.”

“Go? What?”

“Nothing I just…I need to go home…” again, not a lie, but not entirely the truth either. As she’s moving to head up the stairs to her office, she pauses and sighs once last time. “Bay, I…I really am sorry.”

Bayley only nods even though she knows Sasha can’t exactly hear her. Removing the ice pack, she winces as light bruising is starting to form around the circumference of her wrist. Risking a glance back at the stairs, she resigns that _now_ may not be the best time to push, but that doesn’t exactly mean she plans on forgetting about it.

* * *

The night is busier than she anticipated, but she can’t exactly complain because busier crowds make for plentiful tips. Plentiful tips make for one very happy Charlotte Flair who continues to pour to her heart’s content in the cozy haven she’s made behind the bar. She’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a bridal party and she flashes the group a charming grin before she’s heading towards an empty corner of the bar. Ducking behind the bottle display, she retrieves a folded bag of Cheetos. Leaning against the bar, she continues to keep a careful eye on everyone nearby while she’s happily munching away in peace.

“Flair, pour me something.”

Or so she thought. Charlotte rolls her eyes and continues to chew through her chips before she’s about ready to tell the other person to fuck off. When her eyes travel across, her eyes widen and she’s well aware of her jaw nearly scraping the bar. The black bodysuit nearly disappears into the overall dim atmosphere, but the swirling jewels and gold that decorate the front seem to come to life under the alternating lights. What catches her is the plunging, nearly non-existent neckline, and Charlotte knows good and damn well how hard she’s staring would probably, most definitely get her shot. Still though, she can’t look away.

Sasha’s eyes roll hard before she’s slapping her hand on the bar. “Hey!” she exclaims, snapping twice in the other woman’s face to get her attention. “Poor me something.”

“That’s a hell of a greeting,” Charlotte blinks dumbly.

“My eyes are up here.”

“Are you sure?”

Once again, Sasha’s eyes roll. “Clean your hands before you touch my drink. I don’t want fucking cheese dust fingerprints getting everywhere.”

Charlotte clicks her tongue and tries to discretely put her chips away. “Any specific request, Your Highness?” she asks haughtily while wiping her hands with a rag.

Sasha shrugs while trying to appear casual as she leans against the bar. “Surprise me.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow and studies Sasha for a good moment before she’s bringing down a few bottles. It takes her next to no time as she’s pouring the contents into a glass and sliding it across the bar. Her smirk is wide as she drops a straw in the glass. “One Long Island made with a little TLC.”

Sasha snorts quietly before she’s swiping the glass before taking a sip. She doesn’t even realize she’s taken three big ones until she’s setting the glass down and the aftertaste slowly begins to set in. She continues to glance around the club before she levels Charlotte with a look that isn’t necessarily cold, but it’s firm. “Where is she?”

This time, both Charlotte’s eyebrows raise, and her mouth falls open just a tad. “She uh…”

“And don’t lie because you’re bad at it.”

“I mean…yeah, she’s here.”

“Figured. Where is she?”

“Uh.”

“Charlotte I’m being serious,” this time Sasha’s look does turn cold. “If you don’t tell me I’m just going to go look. Then _if_ I happen to find out you lied, it’ll be your ass.”

Charlotte huffs loudly before her hands fall to her hips. She sends up a silent prayer to anyone listening before she huffs once again. “She’s upstairs…”

Sasha clicks her tongue. “That was my first guess,” she mumbles before she’s grabbing her drink. She moves away from the bar and glances at Charlotte one last time before she’s shaking her head. “You have Cheeto dust on your nose, by the way.”

Frowning, Charlotte quickly wipes at her nose. When she looks back up, she finds Sasha’s spot at the bar vacant and she’s left to only sigh quietly to herself while shaking her head. Once again, she sends up another prayer before turning her attention back to the bridal party at the other end of the bar.

Meanwhile, Sasha is moving with a purpose through the sea of gyrating bodies. Eventually, she finds herself at the base of the stairs to the VIP section that’s roped off behind a tall man in a tight black t-shirt. He glares down at her and she stares right back up at him, matching his look. The two stay like that for a while before a look of what appears to be recognition crosses his face and he’s stepping to the side while unhooking the rope. Sasha silently nods her thanks.

Each step she takes towards the top feels like it’s much bigger than the last. She keeps hold of the glass in her hand as well as the railing almost as if they’re acting as her lifelines. When she comes to the very top of the stairs, her eyebrows knit together immediately. It’s definitely more occupied up here than she thought it would be, but that still doesn’t stop her from eventually raising an inquisitive eyebrow at what she’s looking at.

On one of the far couches, Becky appears to be mentally and nearly physically absent from all the world. Her gaze is far off and unfocused and she doesn’t even knowledge the bottle blonde that’s desperately trying to work her way into her lap. In her hand is an empty glass and on the table in front of her is a near empty bottle right next to a full one.

“Who’s that?”

The question barely registers in Becky’s mind as she tries to shift away from the woman who is still trying to touch her more than she would like. Instead of responding she only grunts indignantly and shrugs off the hands at her shoulders while leaning forward to reach for one of the bottles. When she does, her gaze lands on the ‘who’ lingering just at the top of the stairs.

Eyes widening, Becky quickly stands up, nearly knocking Bottle Blonde off the couch entirely while also knocking over a few drinks on the tray on the table. The noise definitely causes a disruption as all eyes are suddenly on her.

“I need you all to leave…” she speaks, as her gaze doesn’t leave Sasha’s. She swallows thickly and turns towards the group as no one appears to be moving fast enough. “I mean it. Leave. Now.”

Even though she doesn’t shout, the iciness in her voice is loud and clear and soon there’s a small herd of women mumbling to one another as they’re all making their way towards the stairs. Another lump appears in her throat and still she leaves the mess of spilled drinks left on the floor as she’s unable to force her feet to move. When the area is finally cleared, her mouth falls open just a fraction, but words don’t come out.

Sasha’s eyes briefly dart down to the glass in her hand and for a moment, she wants to turn around and go right back down those stairs and head home. But she doesn’t. She knows that she can’t, not when she’s worked herself up so much to even take this step after…after so long.

She forces one foot in front of the other until she and Becky are left standing less than three feet away from each other. She uses the lull to take in Becky completely, and she can’t fend off the way her insides clench at the brokenness she’s once again met with. It’s way too familiar.

“I thought you…I didn’t…what’re you…” Becky licks her lips and shakes her head as once again words escape her.

Sasha closes her eyes and takes a much needed deep breath. “You wanted to talk…” she mumbles before setting her glass down on the table in between them. She forces herself to sit because in her mind, it’s one of the only things that will keep her from running. She needs this.

_‘We need this.’_

Sasha takes another deep breath.

“You said you wanted to talk so…let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this one. As always, would love to know your thoughts :3  
> until next time friends


	5. Chapter 5

“Is she gonna be alright?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You know I’ve been doing this a while, right? In fact, you of all people should know that.”

“No, shit, yeah I know. I didn’t mean any disrespect or anything like that. Guess it just kinda freaked me out, you know?”

“Hmm…”

“I mean, it’s normal to panic in a situation like this right?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“I walked in and she was just…passed out. I couldn’t get her to respond or anything. I’ve never seen that before. Not like this.”

“Well, like I said before, I can assure you she’s gonna be fine. You probably don’t wanna be here when she wakes up. Not exactly sure that’s something you’re gonna wanna see.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Trust me. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

* * *

When she tries to open her eyes, it proves to be the most difficult action in the world. Becky swears that her eyelids have never felt heavier in her whole life than they do in this exact moment. Her gaze is hazy and otherwise completely darkened around the edges. She’s unable to make out her surroundings as everything appears to be a swirl of sterile whites and greys with minimal amounts of color splashed in. There’s a beeping that’s so faint, for a second, she wonders if it’s something that’s being made up by her subconscious to serve no purpose but to agitate the painful throbbing behind her eyes.

As expected, the act of sitting up proves to be more difficult than simply blinking. Her limbs seem to have doubled in weight and the headache sitting at the forefront of her skull begins to pound even harder. Her eyes are uncoordinated as they lull down to the clear line of tubbing inserted into her arm all the way down to the clip on the very edge of her finger. Just as she frowns while her mind begins to slowly attempt to process where she is, her stomach does about ten flips.

The way her insides seize is excruciatingly painful as she leans over the edge of the bed and begins to dry heave. Each violent retch draws out an even harsher surge of pain in her skull. Her throat burns from the acidic bile that gets lodged there in place of anything solid. Her eyes water and squeeze shut on their own according as she mentally begins to bargain with anyone and anything that will make this come to an end.

“You’re dehydrated and you haven’t been eating. Makes vomiting pretty painful when you haven’t got anything in the tank to begin with.”

When her body forces itself to calm down, her hands are left shaking and sweat pours down her face while she flops back onto the mattress of the bed. Even laying on her back, she sinks into the coolness of the pillow and momentarily closes her eyes while she works to control her breathing. Beyond that same irritating beeping and her own raggedy breathing, she still hears the light click of shoes against tile as she feels a presence manifest next to her bedside.

It takes Becky several blinks against the harsh florescent lighting before she’s able to force her eyes to focus. When she takes in the woman peering down at her, her eyes immediately slam shut as a quiet grown escapes her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I could ask you the same question? You’re in _my_ space, Lynch.”

Another groan. “Why am I here?”

“Again, I could be asking you the same. Seems like you’re the only one who might have the answer to that.”

“Steph, c’mon. Not right now…”

Stephanie clicks her tongue and proceeds to move around the bed while double checking the heartrate monitor and the IV drip. “One thing I can tell you though is what’s wrong with you. Well…from what I see at least,” she proceeds to pick up a clipboard and effortlessly scribble down notes while she continues speaking. “You’re dehydrated, you look like you haven’t eaten an actual meal in days. You’re hungover,” her pen stills and her nose wrinkles. “Actually, you might actually still be drunk. I haven’t worked out which leg of the race we’re on, yet.”

Becky scoffs while lazily rubbing at her eyes. “I don’t get hungover…” she grumbles almost unintelligibly.

Rolling her eyes, Stephanie repeatedly taps her pen against her clipboard before she’s hastily making her way across the room to her computer. She sets the clipboard down and begins typing away on the keyboard, pausing momentarily as she addresses the woman spread out across the room. “Still drunk then?”

“Fuck you…”

“Now that’s not really a polite way to speak to the person helping you, yeah?” Shaking her head, Stephanie turns her attention back to her computer. “You scared the shit out of Charlotte, you know. She’s the one who brought you here.”

Becky’s eyes remain close only this time she’s left frowning as she tries to recall something, _anything_ from before that might give her an indication as to how she’s ended up here. It’s something she’s found herself all to familiar with as of recent. More often than not her days and nights will become so scrambled, she has a hard time remembering what things have happened and when. There are times where she finds herself missing entire days altogether and she’s left wondering if the scraps of memories left behind are of things that have actually happened or if it’s all something that’s nothing more than her own mind playing tricks on her. She truly doesn’t know what’s real or a nightmare anymore.

Opening her eyes again, her vision is much clearer. She has less trouble as she moves to sit up and prop herself against the pillows. She doesn’t need to look around the room to know where she is. Stephanie’s presence alone had told her that pretty early on. She fully takes in the IV running down her arm and the bags of fluids set up next to her bedside. A quick glance over the edge of the bed shows her a trashcan of what little had been in her stomach that she had managed to empty. Grimacing, she sits back and sighs heavily.

“Is Charlie still here?”

“No. I sent her off for food because I’ll be damned if I have to take her in as well because she also forgot to eat worrying about your stupid ass.”

Wincing at the biting remark, Becky squares her jaw and engages into a staring match with the nearest wall. Her jaw clenches for several moments before she’s looking down at the IV in her arm and in a split second, she’s ripping it out. A soft hiss slips past her lips as she does so while moving to do the same with the pulse monitor. Immediately, the machine emits a loud, high pitched beep as the line of connection goes dead.

Stephanie’s head quickly snaps around and her teeth clench together tightly. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Leaving,” Becky grunts as she moves to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She miscalculates her body’s coordination in its current state of distress, and she’s left nearly falling over as she tries to stand. She grunts as she tips right into Stephanie’s arms before she’s forced back down on the edge of the bed. “Steph, I’ve got it.”

“You don’t,” Stephanie huffs while forcefully pressing on Becky’s shoulders to make sure she stays put. She takes not of how Becky won’t even look at her, even beyond what she knows to be normal when it comes to dealing with people who are intoxicated. For a split second, she swears she catches a brokenness she’s only seen on the woman once before and if memory serves her correctly, it wasn’t all that long ago. As much as she wants to ask, she knows it’s not exactly her place to say. Instead, she sighs quietly through her nose while shaking her head slowly. “I can’t tell you how to live your life, Becky. But I do know if you continue like this, it’s going to end a lot sooner, and that has absolutely nothing to do with how you make your money.”

Huffing indignantly, Becky squares her jaw again before looking away. “I don’t need a babysitter pep talk. I’m fine, Steph.”

“You can admit that you don’t want anyone to help you, but don’t lie and try to sell the façade that everything is fine. You know no one’s going to buy into that. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but just…I’d rather not have you in here cold on one of my tables, alright?”

Becky has to bite down hard on her bottom lip as she manages a shaky nod. When her mouth opens it trembles for a short moment before it clamps shut. She glances down at her hands to find herself gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly, the veins in her hands are angrily straining against her skin. Taking a much needed deep breath, she makes eye contact with Stephanie for the first time since she’s woken up. She shakily nods again and when she speaks, her voice falls to be even more hoarse than it was before.

“Thank you.”

Stephanie is quick to shake her head. “You can thank me by doing what I said. Next time I see you, I need it to be because you walked in here on your own.”

After signing the necessary amount of paperwork and a semi heated back and forth between the two of them about a payment that ultimately ended up being ignored, Becky finds herself dragging her feet as she makes her way out towards the waiting area. She hesitates for a good moment as she watches her best friend alternate her attention from her phone to what looks and smells like an order of chili cheese fries all the while anxiously tapping her feet.

For a split second, Becky feels a crippling vice wraps itself around her stomach and it’s such a feeling she’s come to know a guilt. Guilt the past, present, and future that she has no way to control. Guilt surrounding her own feelings of helplessness that easily morphs into a uselessness she marinates in on a week to week, day to day, hour to hour basis. Now though. Now isn’t the time to get lost in all of that. In fact…there isn’t ever a time in all.

Squaring her shoulders, she continues to make her way through the waiting area, not glancing so much at Charlotte who is completely taken off guard by her presence. She pauses by the front door for a brief moment before she’s heading outside.

“Hey! Becks—shit, hey!”

Abandoning her lunch, Charlotte does a quick jog to catch up with her friend on the outside. Seeing as she’s one of the only cars in the parking lot, she knows that Becky doesn’t have a whole lot of options on where to go, but that still doesn’t stop her sense of urgency. “Hey!”

Coming to a halt by a familiar black SUV, Becky pulls on the passenger door handle, completely unsurprised when it’s locked. Keeping her face neutral, she finally manages to look up at Charlotte who is watching her with immense curiosity. “Can we go?”

“Can we-what? Can you wait like two seconds so I can…” Charlotte trails off as she feels herself squashing her worry that is becoming cloaked by frustration. “What did Steph say?”

“Steph says I’m fine, now can we go?”

“Fine? Becky, you’re anything but fine. I found you passed out about halfway between your bed and your shower. God knows how long you were actually lying there. I thought…I thought you weren’t breathing.”

The vice around her stomach returns and Becky is slowly dropping her gaze to the ground. “I don’t…it was a long day, Charlie. I don’t remember what happened.” It’s not a lie. She truly doesn’t remember much about how she even got home, much less made it through a shower and dress herself long enough to end up sprawled out on her floor.

Charlotte worries her bottom lip and sighs loudly before heading over to the driver’s side of the SUV. When the passenger door opens and closes, they sit in a heavy silence for a long moment. Charlotte is left absently tapping her fingers against the steering wheel while Becky absently stares out of the front windshield. Finally, Charlotte sighs again before speaking.

“Where to?”

“Home…” Becky mumbles, even though the word feels foreign on her lips. As she car starts to move, she lets her head fall against the window while her eyes slowly slip closed.

* * *

_Becky feels like a little kid in the presence of her crush for the first time. Her hands are sweating and she feels clammy while her knee begins to bounce nervously against her consent. The music in the club is loud, but somehow everything has transitioned into a dull pulse. The only thing she’s focused on is the woman in front of her watching closely. The woman she’s daydreamed about for months. The woman whose simple presence somehow manages to keep her grounded, even as things have felt like they are standing on two separate sides of a canyon. The woman and front of her who looks like a familiar face and a complete stranger all at the time. That last part leaves her scared.”_

_“I-I…” her own voice gets caught in her throat. “Do you want a drink? I mean, I guess you already have one but if you want something else…”_

_“I’m fine…” is Sasha’s soft response as she casts a glance at the glass she had previously set down on the table in between them. Looking at Becky like this causes a nearly painful twisting in her heart and she begins to ask herself if the decision to come here tonight had been a mistake. If there’s one thing she had come to know about Becky pretty early on its how put together she always seemed to be. Now? It looks like she’s only a shell of herself judging by the ghastly gaze and the uncoordinated movements. Sasha knows such a look as it’s something that has haunted her own reflection._

_Nodding, Becky’s gaze drops down to her hands while she worries her bottom lip. She curses herself for not having thought this far ahead. She’s the one that wanted to talk. She’s the one that begged for it and now here she is getting exactly what she had claimed she wanted with absolutely nothing to say. Instead, she’s left feeling the exposed disconnect between her mouth and brain, hazed by what has become her liquid lifeline. She had spoken on need and desperation and now she’s left with nothing to say._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_She’s not entirely sure where that came from and she’s even less sure as to what it’s linked to. Either way, it’s the only thing she’s able to latch onto in the moment as they’re the only two words that she’s somehow managed to repeat over and over again in her mind for exactly six months. If there’s anything she’s able to recall, it’s the endless days and sleepless nights of being saying the words over and over again while she fights her body against the tears and sobbing she doesn’t want manifested into reality. She’s fought so hard against a long forgotten feeling of helplessness. The feeling of uselessly curling up and making herself appear as small as possible, as if such an action would sooth the pain just for the time being. The feeling of her youth. She’s fought against it so hard and has done everything she can to keep such an ancient nightmare from becoming a reality._

_“—Becky?”_

_Blinking rapidly, her eyes focus back in on Sasha who still sits in the same position on the other couch across from her. “M’sorry…” she mumbles, ducking her head just a bit as she realizes for the second time that she doesn’t have much else to say._

_Worrying her own lip, Sasha takes a quiet deep breath before retrieving her glass. Only she doesn’t drink it. Instead, her fingers absently trace around it’s rim as she stares deeply into the amber liquid. “This is the first thing I ordered here,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere. A tight smile briefly tugs at the corner of her lips before it’s gone. “The first night you ever spoke to me. This is what I had ordered.” An almost bitter laugh. “I was so desperate to get away from you, I don’t even think I finished it.”_

_“You didn’t,” Becky responds a little too quickly before she clears her throat in a nano second attempt to force herself to relax. “Finish it. You didn’t finish it. I mean, Charlie is pretty heavy handed when she poured drinks…so if you’re not much of a drinker I guess…” she trails off as her eyes dart down to the glass in Sasha’s hand to find that it’s about half finished. “I guess that’s something’s that’s changed…”_

_That same tight smile returns accompanied by that same dry laugh. “A lot has changed…” Sasha mumbles, tapping her fingers against the side of the glass._

_It’s rare in her life that Becky finds herself in a position where she doesn’t know what to do and the feeling is almost physically crippling. Everything she wants to do she knows she doesn’t have the business or the grounds to do so. All of which include a physical closeness she’s missed for so long._

_“What all has?” Becky asks after an extensive silence. Once again, she doesn’t know where the words come from, but it’s all too late to take them back at this point. “What all has changed?”_

_“Me? You?” Sasha shrugs._

_‘…Us?’ But it goes unsaid._

_“I had a lot of time to try and sort through some things. I…can’t say yet if I’ve been successful or not, but…I’m different,” Sasha looks up and makes eye contact. “I think you’re different too, but I can see it in your eyes that you don’t want to admit it.”_

_Becky slowly shakes her head as she’s having a hard time comprehending the meaning behind the words. “Sasha, you were…you were gone for months. Of course, things are gonna be different.”_

_“I’m not talking about ‘things’ Becky. I’m talking about us. Us as people. We’ve changed, both because of everything that’s happened and we’ve just…we’ve just changed because with time that’s what’s happened,” Sasha quickly begins shaking her head as she starts to lose her train of thought. “I guess…through everything that’s happened and that’s still happening, we’re still somehow connected. Even after all this time. And I guess I came here tonight to kind of prove it.”_

_“It? Prove what?”_

_The silence between them is so heavy that it nearly silences the entirety of the club. It’s almost as if they’re two people left sharing a bubble that serves its purpose in completely muting the rest of the word. For a while, Sasha doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even move. She simply sits on the edge of the couch and stares into her glass as if the liquid inside it would suddenly have all the answers._

_“Sasha?” Becky feels herself becoming anxious. “Prove what? What are you proving?”_

_Sasha’s eyes slip closed, and she takes a needed deep breath before she’s counting to ten and opening them again._

_“I needed to prove I’m not afraid of you anymore...”_

* * *

“Becks?”

Becky’s eyes shoot open to find that they’re now sitting in her parking garage. She barely casts a look in Charlotte’s direction before she’s exiting the SUV. Even the concrete somehow manages to feel foreign underneath her shows and the echo of her boots is much louder than normal as she absently gazes down the row of vehicles.

The Ranges, the Ferraris, the Maseratis. Bentley. Mercedes. Audi.

All a small handful of names that have at once brought excitement and euphoria. Byproducts when successfully reaping the rewards of one’s hard earned work. Lavish luxury that most people wouldn’t even come close to imagining in their lives, much less actually experiencing it.

Now? Lately, looking at everything all seems empty.

“You thinking of buying another one?”

Charlotte’s voice slightly startles her, causing her to jump. On instinct, she starts to reach for the inside of her jacket, but she relaxes as she realizes she’s missing a familiar settling weight. She turns back to examine her garage before slowly shaking her head. She remains silent as she moves to head inside.

* * *

_“I needed to prove I’m not afraid of you anymore…because I don’t want to be.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler but i hope it was enjoyed nonetheless. Thoughts always welcome.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Trigger Warning: Physical and emotional abuse

_**Dublin, Ireland** _

The ground comes up hard and it comes up fast. Her face is bouncing hard off the concrete, causing her teeth to scrape the inside of her mouth where she immediately tastes the sharp metallic taste of blood. The pain that soon sets is momentarily white hot before settling into a dull ache over the rest of her body.

It takes a tremendous amount of strength for her to attempt to push herself up on her hands, but a sharp kick to her abdomen has her collapsing back down to the pavement. A cough is torn from her throat and she winces as the action proves to put even more stress on her already sore insides. Once again, she finds her face slapping the pavement.

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to do pretty much anything. When in this particular position of vulnerability, she’s left at the mercy of the elements. Whether those are environmental or man inducing, it doesn’t matter. She’s completely exposed.

The chants around her only seem to get louder and louder as the strikes continue. She instinctively folds in on herself to try and protect herself from the oncoming blows, but the action proves to be of no use. All she can do is lay there and pray that it will be over soon. Although, she’s been here way too many times before to know that these types of things can tend to last what feels like lifetimes.

It was the end of the day and she knew she needed to move quickly if she was going to make it to the little deli shop before she got caught. She had even made sure to leave the school grounds just a few minutes early to try and get a head start. This would have been her first chance at food in two days, and she had only made it this far because of the money she had hidden inside her sock. No one had thought to look there.

Somehow, somewhere, someone up high had it out for her. She had only made it a few hundred yards away from the school before she was harshly shoved to the ground, with what little belongings she had spilling out across the pavement. She had no idea where they came from. She didn’t _see_ any of them. All she knows is that one moment she was alone until she wasn’t.

“Get up, Knox!”

She can barely make out the shout through the blood rushing in her ears. A soft whimper escapes her lips as she’s roughly nudged in the ribs. The action does nothing to quicken her pace and that proves painful as she’s once again struck in the ribs. This time, she can’t help but cry out at the sudden snap she feels on her insides.

“I said, Get! Up!”

She doesn’t remember names. That would mean too many to keep track off. The broad-shouldered girl standing overhead is someone she recognizes from a class, but she can’t for the life of her pick out which one. Her eyes dart around to the gang of students circling them. She barely recognizes anybody.

“Fuckin’ get up!”

A hand is shoved in her face knocking her down again. She’s trembling as she slowly sits up and winces as the action of actually standing proves to be a lot more painful than it actually should be. Her legs are shaking something terrible as she finally managed to get to her feet. She winces when her bare feet come into contact with the hot pavement and she realizes her shoes are missing.

Her shoes. The money.

That was all she had, and the sudden realization nearly hurts more than the physical assault. Her head is ducked low as she tries to sniffle against the blood running down her nose and mouth. She doesn’t need to look up to know. She can’t look up. She folds in on herself trying to make herself appear even smaller. Maybe if she doesn’t move or say anything, they’ll forget she exists.

She’s shoved and mocked. Her hair is pulled and she’s sure she’s been spit on a few times before finally a punch lands so hard to the side of her head that she momentarily blacks out. The ground comes up much slower this time and she doesn’t even feel the impact as her vision is immediately swirling in and out of blacks and whites.

The pounding of feet against the pavement sounds like a hoard until it’s gone. Soon, the chants are gone. The yelling is gone. The names are gone. It’s all gone, only to be replaced by her own ragged breathing the is painful on each inhale and even worse on each exhale.

Who knows how long she lays there for her head to finally stop spinning enough for her to move. Her limbs are as weak as they are heavy as she once again moves herself into a sitting position. This time, she takes a moment to finally take everything in.

Like she suspected, her shoes are gone, and the belongings of her bag have been strewn haphazardly across the ground. Also gone is the only money she had for dinner and her stomach rumbles painful in protest as if it knows that had been their only chance for the day. A deflated sigh leaves her shoulders sinking as she comes to terms with hoping for tomorrow.

After gathered what’s left of her belongings, she continues the slow and painful walk home. Each step leaves her wincing as her feet come into contact with debris scattered along the streets. Her arms are clutching her midsection tightly as she’s all but hunched over, trying to keep her head down lest anyone decide to show up and finish what others had already started.

She has managed to avoid anyone else as she finally makes it onto her street. Her jaw trembles as she pauses in front of the white wooden house, where the paint is peeling off the sides and the wired fence gate is hanging off a hinge. If it were possible, her shoulders slump even more as she slips past the gate and heads on up to the house.

The house is exactly as she remembers it, though she hadn’t expected anything to change in the seven total hours she had been gone for the day. Bottles and cans are scattered about every flat surface. The television is on in the living room but judging by the loudly snoring lump in the lounge chair clutching a half crushed can, it’s not being watched.

“Rebecca! Rebecca!”

The shrill shouts cause her to wince as she slowly shuffles her way into the kitchen. The woman at the sink hasn’t even bothered to turn around as she’s immediately barking in her direction.

“Make yourself useful and get rid of this trash! I told you to do it twice this morning! _Twice!_ How are you ever expected to be anything in life if you can’t follow simple fucking directions!”

She opens her mouth to respond, but she can’t even defend herself. Instead of words, her mouth only produces a strangled squeak. It’s only a matter of seconds before the floodgates start to open.

“What is wrong with you!? Are you listening to me!?”

She flinches when her mother finally whirls on her, and her blood immediately runs cold. Judging by the wild look in her eyes, she knows that this is going to be one of _those_ days. Suddenly, she knows she would have been much better off not even coming home at all.

“M-Ma...”

She just barely manages to dodge the glass thrown in her direction. It shatters on impact against the wall and she whirls background to find the woman quickly advancing on her. She immediately winces when she’s suddenly roughly grabbed.

“What the hell happened to you!?”

“I-I...” the words don’t come no matter how hard she’s trying. “The k-kids they w-w-...”

The trembling in her jaw only worsens and die out into nothing. It frustrates her because she’s been practicing. She’s been practicing _so fucking much_ on her own that by now she should be cured. It should be all gone, and she can be normal.

“You’re out there getting your ass kicked again!? What did I tell you last time!?”

“I-I...”

She’s not allowed to finish. She’s shoved roughly into the wall where the impact sends flares of white-hot pain through her entire body. She cries out and barely managed to keep upright.

“I don’t send you to school to get your ass kicked every fuckin’ day!”

“S-s...sorry...’M s-s-...”

“Look at you! Can't even speak! Shut up!”

Her mouth clamps shut though her jaw continues to tremble. A hand wraps around her wrist and yanks her across the kitchen to a familiar closet sized door off to the side. She doesn’t fight back as the door is opened and she’s flung inside. Her book bag is thrown in after her before the door is slamming shut and locking from the outside.

Her legs carry her the few half paces to the worn mattress until they give out on her completely. She collapses onto the mattress, crying out in pain as she does so. Dark amber hair sticks to her forehead and face while tears pour down her cheeks. All she can do is curl into herself, holding on tightly as if that’s the only thing she can do to physically hold herself in one piece.

******

* * *

The loud yell startles her awake and leaves Becky scrambling against the blankets in her bed. She successfully kicks them down to the foot of her bed in the subconscious effort that leaves her pushing up against her headboard. Her heart is racing, and she’s drenched in sweat as the brief act of soreness in her throat alerts her to the fact the yell had in fact come from her. The realization does nothing to slow her heart rate as she looks around her bedroom in an attempt for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

She’s forced to put her head in her hands and consciously remind herself to take deep breaths, lest she launch into a panic attack. It’s been a number of years since she’s had one now that she thinks about it, and that’s something she would absolutely prefer to ring true as she continues to move forward. The last thing she wants is someone, or namely _two_ someone’s, coming down on her ass because this is just another thing she failed to mention. A bitter scoff replaces her ragged breathing when she wonders when exactly she no longer became in charge of her own fucking life.

It feels like an eternity before Becky can force herself to sink back into her bed. Only, she doesn’t pull the blankets back up over herself. Instead, she’s rolling over onto her side and reaching out to her right. The action is a subconscious one. Almost like a tropism that leaves her feeling slightly jolted when her fingers find nothing but cold sheets. Her fingers momentarily close into a first before her eyes fall shut.

Her eyes aren’t shut for very long before there’s the feeling of warm hands touching her face. Thumps gently stroke her cheeks before fingers move to outline her facial features. Those same fingers brush over her eyebrows, down her nose, along her jawline, before finally ghosting over her lips. At this, she can’t help but grin lazily.

“What’re you doin?” Her voice is still gruff with sleep as those hands move back to cup her face. Her eyebrows raise slightly as she feels warm breath soon bouncing against her lips.

“Nothing...what’re you doing?”

Despite her eyes being closed, Becky’s face is still painted with amusement as she chuckles quietly. “Well I _was_ sleeping, but it seems like for some reason someone else has a problem with that.”

“Hmm. No. Well, yeah. Kinda.”

Becky’s eyes roll behind her eyelids. “Kinda?”

“Maybe just a little.”

Her eyes finally blink open. It’s a little blurry at first because she’s so exhausted, but it takes only seconds to adjust. With her gaze fully in focus, the sky isn’t painted dark like it was before. Instead, blues mixed with soft yellows stream in, lighting the room just enough to indicate the early morning rise. When she reaches out again, instead of cold sheets, she finds a warm body occupying that same foreign space.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She rasps before angling her head just enough to place a kiss on an inside palm.

“I slept really well actually,” Sasha grins brightly. Instead of returning to Becky’s face, she opts to lightly tangle her fingers into messy strands of orange that have escaped the elastic that was expected to hold everything in place. A short giggle slips past as her actions only seem to make things a little worse.

“You look like a grumpy lion in the mornings.”

Becky’s eyebrows furrow even though her now confused yet amused smile remains in place. “I...what does that even mean?”

Sasha shrugs as if she hadn’t just said something so strange. “I don’t know how to explain it. You just do.”

“Well, maybe this lion is grumpy because she’s not a morning person?” Becky implores whole playfully raising her eyebrows. She reaches over enough to secure an arm around Sasha’s waist before she’s rolling over onto her back, successfully bringing the other woman on top of her. “Maybe the lion is grumpy because she doesn’t ever get to sleep in at all? Because she wakes up every morning to somebody poking her in the nose?”

Sasha rolls her eyes at the dramatics of the analogy. “I wasn’t poking you in the nose,” she declares before pointing a finger out to do exactly what she said she wasn’t.

Becky shakes her head and laughs nonetheless. Her arms tighten around Sasha’s waist enough to pull her even closer. “Well then. We’re being extra mean this morning, aren’t we?”

“Not mean. Just bored.”

“I mean we could...sleep? Seems like a plausible thing to do at...whatever time this is.”

Sasha’s eyes roll again as she leans down to rest their foreheads together. “Do you have to work today?” She implores quietly while reaching down to search for one of Becky’s hands.

There’s a split second moment of hesitation but Becky is eventually shaking her head. “I don’t have anything on my schedule for today.”

“Nothing? No meetings or conference calls or anything?”

“If I did I could easily move it all. Perks of being in charge. What’re your plans today?”

Sasha hums and giggles quietly while brushing their noses together. “Be lazy with you.”

Becky echos the low hum. “That sounds like a very good plan actually. The grumpy lion approves.”

“You’re taking that way too seriously,” Sasha snorts.

“You’re the one that brought it up. Now I’m not letting it go. Besides, the lion is the king of the jungle. I think that makes them pretty awesome. You know what every king needs, right?”

“If you say a queen I swear to god I’m leaving you right here and going home.”

Becky laughs openly. “I was actually gonna say breakfast, but a queen would be nice too.”

As much as she tries to fight it, Sasha finds herself laughing at the dorky response. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

Even though the words are playful albeit incredibly sarcastic, Becky feels her insides warm. Any left over heaviness when may be feeling is always immediately replaced whenever those words are spoken. She always has to take a step back an mentally process and enjoy it.

“Yeah...yeah I’m very lucky,” she whispers. Her eyes slip closed and she’s lifting her head just enough for their lips to meet for the first time that morning.

Only nothing happens. Becky frowns and her eyes fly open only to be met with same darkness as before. She’s now on her back staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She doesn’t need to look away or turn her head to her right to know. She’s reminded every single night. It’s not morning just like it was only a few moments ago. It never was.

Resigning to another sleepless night, Becky swings her legs over the edge of her bed and before standing up. It takes her a moment to steady herself before she’s gripping a hand tightly into her hair and slowly making her way over towards her closet. She just barely catches a glance of herself in her mirror before she’s disappearing into the walk-in.

When she reemerges, she’s dressed in jeans and a jacket. She rakes her hands through hair hair a few times, taming it enough for her to pull it back into a ponytail. She pauses just long enough to grab her phone from the nightstand on her way out of her bedroom.

If it were possible for silence to be screaming, she’s sure this is exactly what it feels like. Each descent of the stairs feels like it’s echoing, bouncing aimlessly around the empty halls and vacant rooms of her penthouse.

Aimless. It’s a word, a thought, a feeling she’s become involved with. She’s been forced on autopilot with no rime, reason, or will to switch it off. It’s become routine. It’s become who she is.

The temptation and the draw to her bar is far too great. Her feet carry her over on their own and her hands move almost systematically in bringing down a bottle and filling the glass. The first drink is always the one that gets rid of the headache. The second is the one that reminds her she should forget. The third begs her to forget.

The sway on her feet is easily ignored. She grabs her keys from the counter and double checks the familiar cold metal weight tucked into the back of her jeans before she’s heading for the door. She lingers for a moment before snorting bitterly, knowing that the emptiness is something that’s going to leave with her anyway.

* * *

“Come on!”

“Wait...wait...”

“If you stop again I’m adding on an extra third! Come on, push!”

“I can’t fucking...”

“Come on, you’re like right here!”

“Jesus Christ...”

Sasha has her hands on her hips and she looks as if she’s two seconds away from actually tapping her foot. Her eyebrows raise at the woman trudging towards her roughly thirty yards away. She raises her wrist and taps her watch as said woman finally reaches her and all but collapses at her feet.

“You’re about ten seconds behind where you were last time,” Sasha clicks her tongue. “You would’ve beaten it if you hadn’t slowed down during that last half stretch.”

“I...couldn’t...fucking...breathe, Sasha,” Charlotte tries her best to glare but it proves almost futile as her lungs feel like they’re about a second away from exploding right in her chest. Her face is flush and her legs feel like jelly despite the fact she’s laying flat on her back on the concrete. “The fuck...did you want me to do!?”

Sasha shakes her head. “You’ve gotta remember, you’re not going to catch your breath. You’re just not. No matter how bad the burn is, you can’t stop.”

Charlotte scowls deeply when she reaches up for her water bottle and Sasha holds it just out of reach, not even bothering to meet her halfway to give it to her. “And when I collapse and die out here because you’re a psychopath?”

Sasha’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. “You’re not gonna collapse and die. This is part is about making your lungs stronger. You need that.”

“No,” Charlotte grunts, finally managing to get to her feet no thanks to Sasha. Her legs buckle for a moment before she straightens entirely and all but snatched her water bottle. “This is about making sure you and Becky don’t keep telling me I’m fat.”

“I never said you were fat. I said you got pudgy.”

“It’s the same fucking thing.”

Sasha rolls her eyes again before spinning around to head up into her apartment building. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t quite yet broken the plane of the horizon. It’s nice because it leaves a crispness still lingering in the air enough to be tolerable for an early morning workout.

Charlotte is left grumbling to herself as she follows Sasha up to her apartment. It irritates her to no end that in those three miles of hell, Sasha doesn’t even look flushed while she’s sure if she looked in a mirror and saw herself, she would see nothing short of someone who’s right at death’s door. That’s exactly how she feels.

A slightly smug grin tugs at the corner of Sasha’s lips as she can still hear Charlotte taking in deep lungfuls of air behind her. She steps into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her as she makes a straight beeline for the kitchen. She quickly roots through her fridge before returning to the living room.

Charlotte just barely gets a hand up in time to catch the bottle that looked like it was aimed at her head. It’s a clear bottle containing a purple liquid and she’s soon looking back up at Sasha with confusion. “What’s this?”

“Drink that.”

“...what is it?”

“You ask too many questions,” Sasha huffs. “You need to replenish your electrolytes. Part of the reason you get so tired is you don’t hydrate enough. Even I can see that from here.”

“You don’t hydrate enough,” Charlotte mocks under her breath before eying the suspicious purple liquid. She uncaps the bottle and takes a swig before immediately making a face. “Christ! This tastes like death!”

Sasha chuckles quietly while her look of amusement morphs into a soft smile. They’ve been at this for maybe a week or so now. A week or so since Sasha had spontaneously reached out on a whim and asked if Charlotte had been available to talk. She honestly hadn’t respect such a quick response, but nevertheless that’s what she got.

For the most part they had sat in silence, while Sasha had mulled over so many questions she had in her head. What stopped her from asking, was the knowledge of the fact that she’s a hundred percent sure those questions couldn’t have been answered. Not by Charlotte anyway. The only person who could answer them is the very same subject of her daydreams and nightmares. The same subject she’s addressed countless upon countless letters to before she ultimately ended up crumbling sheets of paper she left scattered about her home office.

She had wanted to prove it. She thought she could and surprising enough, that night at the club she had managed to get out everything she had wanted to say. At that time at least. It wasn’t until after that she had gotten back home and everything was quiet she realized that she hadn’t proved anything at all. The only thing has proved that night was the one thing she worked so hard against for those six long months and yet...she was still afraid.

“Sasha?”

Blinking rapidly, she didn’t even realized she had spaced out. When she comes to, she finds Charlotte watching her closely with a look of concern. Subconsciously, her eyes drift to a ghastly familiar scar just peaking out of the other woman’s tank top. Her throat immediately goes dry.

“I’m fine...” Sasha manages, though it comes out as a raspy and rather unconvincing whisper.

She swear she feels herself sway on her feet for a second as the darkness around the very edges of her vision becomes familiar. She glances down at her hands only to jump back when she sees them covered in a dark red substance. When she moves her fingers, she’s aware of how warm and sticky it feels against her hands.

When she looks up again, Charlotte is no longer standing in the middle of her living room. Instead, she’s on her back, gasping for air as dark red slowly pools beneath her. Her skin is almost ghostly blue color that only seems to pale by the second.

Sasha’s legs feels like lead as she tries to will herself forward, to do something. Anything. She takes a few steps before she’s stopped by something solid in front of her. The figure is unrecognizable. In fact, it’s nothing more than a dark outline she can’t make out. It takes the shape of a human, but it’s so dark, even being this close she can’t make out a face. It has a hold on both of her arms and she whimpers quietly as she feels herself being burned as if she were being branded with a hot iron.

“Please...”

It burns so much tears well in her eyes, but her body feels as if she’s been frozen from the inside out. She can’t even fight enough to pull away. Looking between her and the shadow, she sees that the same puddle of red has slowly pooled beneath her shoes. Glancing back up for the final time, she swears there’s just the faintest hint if hazel where the shadows eyes _should_ be.

“No, no, no, no, no...”

“Sasha...Sasha hey..”

“I can’t look at you...I can’t look....”

Her vision is watery when she opens them. Through the haze, she can just barely make out Charlotte staring back at her. Immediately, she looks back down only to be met with the clean wood of her floor. When she looks at her hands, she finds them clean and void of anything foreign. A frustrated frown soon creases her forehead.

Feeling herself being moved over to her sofa, she all but sinks into the cushions as the hands at her arms don’t burn any more. “I’m sorry...” her voice is quiet as she speaks.

Charlotte frowns. She’s seen this look before. She _knows_ this look and in the back of her mind it’s like she’s slowly piecing together the world’s most broken puzzle where there’s only two pieces left. Two pieces that she knows absolutely fit together, but for whatever reason they won’t fall into place.

“Don’t apologize...” she makes sure to keep her voice calm. “What did you see?”

Sasha opens her mouth to response but immediately closes it. Her jaw trembles as she appears to be fighting with herself in what to say. Things she’s only said to herself and the woman hiding in her mirror.

She knows exactly what she saw. The same thing in that had before been in her fantasies. Then in her daydreams. Only to now be in her nightmares. The same thing she’s been running away from...but still unconsciously and deeply longing for all at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit. You guys ever feel like the chapters start writing you after a while...that's kinda where I'm at. Thanks for reading friends :3 there's always more to come!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of emotional and physical abuse, and alluded violence

_**Dublin, Ireland** _

She’s alone and for that fact alone she shouldn’t be as nervous as she is. The only noise keeping her company is the occasional clanking of the water heater settling in the corner. It’s kind of cold this evening and this is one of the times she doesn’t mind being so close to it, even if it does have the tendency to shake and rattle and keep her up at all hours of the night. Most nights she’s used to it, but there are the occasional ones, typically the ones where she’s begging for sleep to come instantly, that she finds it’s at its loudest.

She’s sitting cross legged, halfway on her mattress, halfway on her floor as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She pushes her dark hair away from her face to reveal a pale green bruise that covers most of the area of her right cheek. Further down towards her chin and jawline, that same pale green transitions into a light yellow. Her neck is a totally different story as she sports a ring of dark blues and purples that stop at her shoulders.

The crazy part is, she doesn’t remember which ones came from where. The coloring gives her vague ideas of when, but beyond that she doesn’t have much of anything else to go off of. Everything has started to blur together and more often than not she finds her days turning into mixed swirls of color she can never recall. It’s always too painful to try and recall them anyway.

The mirror is dingy, and it has a thin crack down the very center, almost distorting her own image. The mismatch of the two halves, when looked at a certain way, almost cause her reflected image to appear as if she’s smiling. That’s probably the closest she’ll ever come again. Even the action of attempting to lift the corners of her lips to replicate what she once knew as a smile feels like a daunting chore. When it’s a chore, it’s not genuine. It’s not authentic or unique. It’s just obligatory, pointless, and a waste of time and space.

_‘Waste of time and space.’_

The words have been spewed in her direction on way too many occasions. She’s sure if she had the capability to remember back to the womb, it’s something she probably would’ve heard then. A waste of time and space when she does her best to stay out of the way. A slightly tired snort slips past her lips when she realizes how counterintuitive it is for those who go out of their way to remind her how much of a waste she is, when all she wants to do is to be invisible.

Sighing quietly, she looks down at the paper she’s been holding between both her hands and she hadn’t even realized that her grip has gone so tight she’s nearly torn it. She immediately relinquishes her tight grip and smooths out the paper in her lap before she looks down at her own handwriting scrawled on the lines of the page. She takes a deep breath before looking back up at herself in the mirror. 

“M-M…name,” she pauses and has to take a breath. “N-name is R-R…” another breath, this one sounding more exhausted than the first. “Reb-b-b…”

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and it refuses to cooperate no matter how hard she yells at it in her mind. It’s almost as if someone has filled her mouth full of rubber cement and she’s been charged with the impossible task to somehow work around that. Her jaw and her lips tremble almost uncontrollably. Her grip tightens once again on the paper in her hands, only this time she’s successfully tearing it in two.

Looking down at the two halves in her hand, she snorts bitterly when she notes how the paper takes an odd resemblance to her broken mirror. She holds the pieces together and connects them along the tear. The words are still barely legible in between the paper’s crumbled rigids.

_‘My name is Rebecca Knox. I am thirteen years old. I was born here in Dublin. I do not have any siblings. When I graduate, it is my dream to…’_

A tear falls onto the page, smudging the next word. She reaches up and wipes at her eyes, not even having realized that the tears began to fall. So, it seems, the more she wipes at them, the more difficult it is to stop them. More drops land on the torn pages until she’s finally crumpling both of them in her shaky fists. She eventually tosses the wads into the corner where they land atop other wads of paper just like them. She can’t even stand to look at the pile. It only serves to remind her and confirm what a failure she is.

She pushes herself up on her hands and carefully makes her way over to the door tucked off in the opposite corner. She flinches as the water heater clanks as she passes by, and she can’t help but send it a glare as if it was a person who was conscious to its torments. Honestly, at this point, she really wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

She pauses as she spots her mother at the scrubbing dishes. The woman doesn’t so much as turn around and acknowledge her presence which is something she’s thankful for. Normally, she tries to time it as best she can that way, she can leave her room when no one is usually up and moving about. Now clearly wasn’t one of those times where timing was not exactly on her side.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she makes her way over to the counter opposite her mother where a full water pitcher sits. She pulls down a cup from the cabinet and sets it down, steadying it as she reaches for the pitcher. Lifting the pitcher, she begins to pour, but her hands are so unsteady that it begins to shake in her hands. The more she tries to mentally will the shaking to stop, the worse it gets, and the pitcher ends up slipping from her hold all together and landing with a loud clash on the floor. Water immediately goes everywhere, splashing her ankles as creates a massive puddle on the floor.

“Goddamn it! You piece of shit kid!

The loud exclamation startles her even more and she doesn’t even have time to react as she’s smacked so hard the world spins. Tears jump to her eyes and she’s instinctively grabbing the side of her face as her mother bears down on her.

“I-I’m sorry!” she gasps, still clutching the side of her face.

The shove is even more unexpected and the smack. As she’s shoved, she slips on the puddle which causes her to lose her footing as she’s hurdling towards the center table. Her head smacks off of the table with a surrounding ‘thud’ and the action causes her to momentarily see stars behind her eyes. The pain is white hot, and her legs immediately feel like they’ve turned to jelly. She’s grasping onto the table for dear life as it’s her only lifeline and the only thing keeping her upright.

“Sorry? You’re sorry!? I’ll make you fuckin’ sorry!”

The hand around her neck is unrelenting as she’s being leaned backward over the table. She attempts to call at her mother’s hand but it’s no use as she’s out matched by the older woman’s strength. She begins to wheeze as her vision begins to blur and darken around the edges.

“P-Please! M-Ma! I c-can’t…I can’t breathe!”

“You can’t breathe!?”

“N-no please! I’m sorry!”

She feels her hands going numb and limp. Everything is starting to get dark. Noises are beginning to sound as if they’re a million miles away. She’s starting to feel tingly and cold all at the same time. Her hands finally go still as she can’t will herself to fight anymore.

“You’ll be better off fuckin’ dead kid!”

“P-please…”

She’s viciously flung to the side and she hand around her throat disappears. She lands roughly on the floor, water splashing up into her face from where she lands directly into the spilled water. Her chest heaves and her coughs are painful as her lungs take in greedy gulps of air. Her vision begins to return to normal and she hears stomping footsteps disappear until there’s a door slamming upstairs. She can only roll over onto her back as she tries to breathe as best she can.

She has no idea how long she lays there. Perhaps she even falls asleep with the way her eyes jolt open and she’s sitting straight up front the floor. The action reminds her of the throbbing in her head and she reaches up to press her hand against the back of her head. She hisses as the action only causes more pain and when she pulls her fingers away, she finds her fingers entirely painted red.

Gasping, she clumsily gets to her feet and she small red spot on the floor where her head had been laying moments prior. The sight nearly forces her to be sick to her stomach as she even finds herself gagging. If her stomach weren’t as empty as it currently is, she’s sure it’s contents would have been spewed all over the floor and that would no doubt earn her worse than what she’s already gotten. If worse is even possible.

From there, she’s moving completely on autopilot. She dashes back to her room in the very corner of the kitchen and throws the door open. She winces as the noise is resounding as it bounces off the wall. She quickly glances around the room, realizing that she has little to no belongings and even less time. The only thing she can do is stuff her feet into a worn pair of shoes by the door and sprint of the kitchen.

She leaves through the back, the door slamming shut loudly behind her. Her head and her heart are pounding something terrible as she stumbles her way through the back gate and the yard before she’s tripping out on to the street. She catches herself with her hands and casts a fearful glance up at the house before she’s sprinting down the street. She doesn’t have a single clue as to where she’s going, but she knows she can’t stop. She just has to keep running as far and as fast as she can. She doesn’t have time to think of where she’s going or how long it’ll take her to get there. It’ll all be okay, as long as she keeps running.

******

* * *

Startling awake is becoming a routine habit that is getting way too out of hand for her. Her head is pounding something terrible as she groans and reaches a hand up to brush her hair away from her forehead. A small frown creases her forehead when she finds the action a bit more restricting than it should be.

Becky blinks a few times for her vision to focus in enough and on immediate observation she finds that this isn’t her bedroom. The bright white and gold marble finishes of the room is something that is practically a direct contrast to the dark granite finishes of her apartment. When she settles her head back, she frowns at the renaissance styled painting that is decorating the entirety of the ceiling.

Moving once again proves to be more daunting than it should be and when she finally looks down, she’s made aware as to why. A strange head of dark hair is resting at the junction of her shoulder, while a head of blonde is about halfway on her chest. There are arms loosely draped over her waist as another blonde is resting soundly next to her stomach and there’s another dark-haired girl curled up at the foot of the large bed. All of the women are practically nude save for the one blonde who’s wearing a poor excuse for a thong that only serves the purpose for the _idea_ of covering something up.

“Fuck…” Becky hisses tiredly, using her thumb and forefinger to rub some of the grogginess out of her eyes before she’s pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to bring back any sort of memory from the night prior. Unfortunately, nothing seems to come up right away.

Her movements are slow as she makes a move to crawl out of the bed that most definitely isn’t hers. She winces as one of the girls seemingly whines in her sleep and tries to cling onto her. Becky carefully moves the girl’s arms from around her shoulders to rest idly on the counterpart sleeping next to her. This seemingly works as she’s then able to methodically crawl her way out of bed without so much as causing any kind of hassle.

“Shit,” she curses again as she finds her pants flung over a chair in the corner along with her jacket. After slipping into her pants, she’s thankful to find the familiar weight of her gun in her right pocket and her phone in her left.

Having dressed, she casts one more glance at the bed of women and groans quietly to herself. She makes her way from the bedroom out into an unfamiliar hallway. The designs are similar to that of the bedroom. High ceilings, gold trim, marble floors. It screams expensive as it does tacky and she finds herself turning up her nose in disgust as the artwork only seems to compliment everything in a very bad way. Whoever this is, clearly has a misguided construct as to what is presentably upscale.

She’s still trying to wrack her brain in relation to where she is as she descends the stairs. The first floor is even tackier than the upstairs and she scratches the back of her head still wondering what the fuck she’s doing in such a place, and who the fuck this place even belongs to. There’s been nothing that’s stood out or jogged her memory as she slowly makes her way through the spacious hallways.

As she’s heading towards what she hopes is the exit, she nearly slips and her boot squeaks against something on the floor. When she looks down, she finds a red streak painted across the floor and when her eyes follow the streak, she finds it leaning to a puddle underneath a body lying on its side just a few feet away. Frowning, she carefully steps over the body and nudges it with her foot. The body folds over onto its back, and Becky finds herself looking into the dead eyes of a man she doesn’t recognize. The only thing that is slightly telling is the blatant red hole in his chest, no doubt the source of the red puddle formed underneath him.

Her eyes travel towards the streak across the floor and she finds it’s at its most dense coming from an open door. Instinctively, she frees her gun from her pocket and clutches it tightly as she slowly makes her way through the door. The floor is carpeted and there’s a fire going in the fireplace at the far end of the room. She’s looking around for anything that might tell her where she is and it isn’t until her eyes land on the table in the very center of the room that her eyes widen drastically.

Seated around a poker table five other men, each of which either slumped of halfway slumped in their chairs. Three of the men have multiple bullet holes in their chest and are nearly halfway slumped to the floor while the remaining two have single holes in the very center of their foreheads. Long since burned cigarettes sit in the center ashtray and unfinished drinks have been spilled and knocked over.

Becky’s jaw tenses repeatedly and her hand is slightly trembling as she lifts her gun and drops the magazine into her empty in. “Shit…” she curses quietly when she finds that the clip is completely empty.

Stuffing her gun back into her pocket, she retreats to the large desk in front of the fireplace. She uncaps the bottle sitting on the desk and pours it into one of the empty glasses before taking a deep sip. A frown is deep in place at the lack of burn as she’s retrieving her phone from her back pocket and thumbing through it. She takes another sip and sighs for a moment before she’s bringing the device to her ear. It rings several times before there’s a click on the other line. She opens her mouth to say something, but ends up sighing and lowering her phone when she glances around the room once again. She shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose as she brings her phone back up to speak. 

“Hey. I need you to come help me clean up a mess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a quick read and another Becky filler, but...a rather important one. Thanks for sticking by! Until next chapter friends :3


	8. Chapter 8

The buzzing is a lot more violent and aggressive than it should be and it leaves her nearly jumping out of her skin. Blinking rapidly, it takes Charlotte a couple seconds to even remember where she is and what was even responsible for waking her up in the first place. She glances around the room and her eyes lands on the woman curled up at the other end of the couch. The realization causes her to relax just a bit when she takes in how peaceful and relaxed she looks, something Charlotte honestly can’t even pinpoint the last time she’s seen it.

She’s brought out of her momentary lapse as the incessant vibrating starts up once again. She’s finally awake enough to comprehend the noise coming from her pocket is from her phone trying desperately to get her attention. Fishing the damn thing out of her hoodie, she doesn’t even bother to glance at the screen before she’s bringing it to her ear.

“...Hello?” she surprised even herself by the hoarseness in her own voice. Had she really been _that_ deep in sleep?

Charlotte is rubbing at her eyes as she sits up further on the sofa. “Okay…not that I’m a complete stranger to this kinda call, but usually they’re a bit more specific. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Listening for a moment, Charlotte spares another glance to her right before she’s sighing and rising from the couch. She has a hand tangled in her hair as she makes her way into the kitchen and immediately begins looking through the fridge. “Like…just now? Jesus, what happened?”

A pause.

“Well I mean you know, usually I’m the one that comes with surprises,” she traps her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she reaches in the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs, cheese, bacon, and butter.

Setting the items down, Charlotte is thankful to find a clean skillet already on the burners. In not time, she’s cracking the eggs, whisking them, before properly prepping everything to go in the pan. The eggs hit the pan with a loud hiss, and she winces when she’s reminded of the fact she’s on the phone.

“Ah, I wasn’t up to anything really? I’m in the middle of making something to eat,” there’s a pause and she immediately huffs. “I mean to be fair; it is still kind of early and some of us _do_ prefer to eat breakfast in the morning. Don’t be an ass, it’s not like it’s an emergency or anything…well you didn’t it was how am I just supposed to…yeah, I know. I’ll head soon, okay? I just…I gotta take a shower first. Text me the address.”

Ending the call, Charlotte huffs irritably before tossing her phone to the side. She stares at it for a moment as if her glares alone are enough for it to translate her thoughts. Eventually, she’s left shaking her head as she turns her attention back to her task at hand. Like she stated before, she’s not at all a stranger to receiving those kinds of phone calls at any hour, any day, and any night. Needless to say, she usually has a bit of an idea as to where they’re coming from. Hell, usually she’s the reason. Something about this one had just felt off.

Charlotte works quickly to finish her task at hand until she’s eventually pulling a plate down from the cabinet. She pockets her phone again before quietly returning to the living room where she idly lingers by the couch for a moment. Her eyebrows furrow together in slight concern as she recalls the events earlier in the morning after they had returned from their run. It was something that left her feeling incredibly unsettled, and given everything she’s seen in her lifetime, that definitely says a lot.

Perhaps there’s a part of her that feels guilty if not a bit responsible. Complacency is something that is just as punishable as direct responsibility. At least in Charlotte’s mind it is. She can’t help but sigh quietly to herself as she thinks back to the times she’s seen this woman smile brightly. It had been pretty early on and still around the time Charlotte herself had been pretty skeptical about the whole thing, as she should have been. In hindsight she knows they _all_ should’ve been more careful.

Sighing again, she places the plate down on the coffee table before she’s making crouching down by the couch. She hesitates for a moment before she reaches out and gently shake’s the sleeping woman’s shoulder. “Hey…hey, Sasha?”

Sasha seemingly mumbles something in her sleep before she’s subconsciously tightening her arms around the throw pillow she’s clutching. She doesn’t wake right away, but still continues to shift slightly on the sofa. It isn’t until Charlotte is once again lightly shaking her shoulder again that her eyes fly open and she sits straight up on the table. Her heart rate is fast and her breathing erratic as she looks around with wild eyes.

“Hey…”

Her eyes eventually shift towards the soft voice of the woman kneeling in front of her. She finds herself sinking back further into the sofa while still clutching her pillow. “Hey, sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”

Charlotte snorts and shakes her head. “You did more than just doze off,” she nods towards one of the windows. “Last I checked, the sun wasn’t out when we got back.”

“Well…you didn’t have to say,” Sasha mumbles quietly, her ears starting to burn slightly as she recalls her relapse only a few hours prior. It had been the first time she had ever blacked out like that in front of another person. Sure, she had had close calls with her friends before but something about this had been incredibly different.

“No, I didn’t _have_ to, but after what I saw, I think it’s a good thing I did,” Charlotte winces as she realizes how the words must have come out. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Sasha. I really just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine…” It’s become a mantra of words that Sasha has found herself repeating over and over again. Almost as if the more she says it on a regular basis, perhaps one day it will manifest itself into being true.

Charlotte worries her bottom lip because she heard the words and received them, but in her mind the voice had been completely different. She also knows better than to argue. “You don’t…have to tell me what you saw, especially if that makes you uncomfortable, but you do know that I’m here right? Whatever you need, or don’t need. I’ve got you.”

Sasha is nervously wringing her hands and squirming against the cushions. She ducks her head a bit and shrugs her shoulders. “Thanks. You didn’t have to…” she trails off as she picks up on the scent of food. “You definitely didn’t have to do that. You cooked?”

“Please. I’m not Becky, I know how to feed myself,” if she were looking at Sasha dead on, she would’ve picked up on her momentary change in composure before it’s gone. “I wouldn’t felt right knowing I hadn’t left something. Whether you actually eat it or not, kinda remains to be seen but…it’s there.”

Sasha reaches out and accepts the place as it’s offered to her. She pokes around the plate for a moment before taking a bite. “God, that’s pretty good actually,” she mumbles around mouthfuls of food.

“See? I know how to do some things.”

“Yeah, we just gotta work on your cardio,”

Charlotte huffs, puffing out her cheeks before she’s rising back to her full heights. “And on that note, I’m gonna leave before this abuse continues.

“Plans today?” Sasha inquires as she follows the other woman to the door to see her out.”

“Ah, just gotta get some work done,” Charlotte shrugs nonchalantly. When she doesn’t get a response immediately, she’s left grimacing as she turns to face Sasha who has an almost absent look in her eye. “I mean it’s not…it’s like…I just have to do some stuff with the club.”

“It’s okay…” Sasha’s voice is oddly quiet as she slowly shakes her head. “You don’t have to lie to me…”

Sighing heavily, Charlotte moves to where she is in Sasha’s line of vision. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

Sasha shrugs before wrapping her arms around herself. “Maybe…”

“Sasha, I’m serious.”

“I have your number.”

Tilting her head back, Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I suppose that’s the best I’m gonna get.”

There’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the very corner of Sasha’s lips as she follows Charlotte the rest of the way to her front door. In all honesty, she hasn’t felt herself genuinely smile like that in a while. There certainly hasn’t been much of anything to be amused about as of late. She’s largely found the other woman’s presence rewarding because she can be around someone who just gets it and isn’t looking her like she’s made of glass the whole.

“I’ll see you for our next run. Next time, we’re gonna try to tack on an extra half.”

Sasha laughs openly when Charlotte flips her the bird before opening the door. What neither of them are prepared for is the woman standing on the other side of the threshold with her hand poised to knock. Sasha can practically feel the color draining from her face as they momentarily lock eyes.

Bayley’s lips are pulled into a tight thin line as she eyes Charlotte intently. Her body language is tense even as she eventually steps to the side to allow the other woman through the doorway. She continues to stare down the hallway for a good moment before turning her attention back to Sasha who’s lingering idle just inside the doorway.

Sasha works her jaw for a few moments while trying to figure out where to start. “It’s not…”

“What it looks like?” Bayley cuts in quickly with her eyebrows raised. She absently looks down the hall once again and then back to Sasha, this time her eyes have gone a little bit wide. “Sasha, what was she doing here.”

“Nothing,” Sasha shakes her head, hoping against reality that the subject will be dropped.

Bayley blinks owlishly as she follows Sasha into her apartment and closes the door behind her. “How can it just be nothing? How can it when she…she…” she trails off, not knowing how to follow up with what she meant to say.

“She what?” Sasha spins around, unsure as to why she’s becoming defensive.

“I don’t know. I just figured with everything that had happened…” trailing off again, Bayley frowns at the floor for a moment, having an internal battle with a war of words before looking back to her best friend. Her best friend she hasn’t seen much of since she’s come back. To Bayley, a lot of the time she feels like they’re acquaintances who are tasked with getting to really know each other for the first time.

“You never told me what happened,” her voice is hesitant as she speaks around the subject she’s wanted to inquire about for the longest.

Sasha wraps her arms around herself and perches on the arm of her sofa. So many times she’s played out this conversation in her mind, all of which leading back to the same result. On top of not wanting to relive everything that’s happened, she also knows it’s in her own best interest and the best interest of her friends to keep that under lock and key. How was she even meant to explain that? Where could she start?

_‘Hey yeah, remember the first person who actually made me feel like it was all worth it in such a long time? Yeah, turns out she’s a violet killer and I actually saw it happen. Now on to the part where I got taken…’_

None of that really seems like it would float well. Some things, if not most things, really are better left unsaid.

Worrying her lip, Sasha sighs at the look of concern she’s receiving. They’ve known each other for so long, she knows all about this look. The only thing that’s worse here is it looks as if it’s borderline painful for the both of them. A part of her can’t help but feel incredibly guilty because of it. The last thing she ever wants to do is cause her friends pain. It’s just much better than the alternative.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” at least that part isn’t a lie.

_‘You don’t want me to talk about it…’_

If it were possible for Bayley’s look to get even more pained, it does. “Sash…” she’s hesitant as she makes her way over to the sofa and carefully sits on the edge next to her friend. “I know it was bad but…”

Before she can stop herself, Sasha laughs mirthlessly. “You don’t know how bad it was…”

_‘You don’t know the nightmares.’_

_‘You don’t know the same face following me around no matter where I turn.'_

_‘You don’t know any of it. You can’t know.’_

“To have your heart broken like that, it…”

_‘It makes you never want to try again.’_

_‘It makes you want to give up.’_

Sasha isn’t aware of her tears that have fallen until Bayley reaches out to wipe them away. “To be that happy and to just have it all go away. Bay, I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

Momentarily, Bayley does feel a tad bit guilty for continuing to push, but knowing how stubborn Sasha tends to be, it’s all she can think to do. “I can’t force you to talk about it. Whatever it is or was,” she pauses to sigh. “Although I know that keeping it in isn’t doing you any favors and I just…I’m worried about you and I want to help in whatever way that I can. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“I’m just…working to move on right now, I guess.”

Bayley’s jaw twitches slightly at the words ‘move on’, but she doesn’t ask. “Mella and I have been talking about you,” she quickly holds up her hands when Sasha’s gaze snaps towards her. “It hasn’t anything bad! Just lately, since you’ve came back you’ve kinda just thrown yourself full speed ahead into the gym and we haven’t gotten to see you a whole lot. We miss you, Sash.”

Sasha nods solemnly as she knew they would eventually get here. “I was gone for so long, I guess I’m still transitioning back into my life before…” her voice goes quiet.

“Before Becky…?”

Sasha feels her throat momentarily tighten as she thinks about those times. As she thinks about how _happy_ she was. It was happiness she couldn’t even describe or verbally explain to another person. It was something she could relate to an experience. A feeling. Hell, she hadn’t even realized she had fallen so hard until it all snuck up on her. To say her life had been changed even before everything went south would be an understatement.

Sensing her friend’s discomfort, Bayley lets up completely. “Listen, I didn’t come here to chew you out or anything. Ah, I guess…Mella and I were planning a day out and we wondered if you’d be up to joining us? We don’t have plans for anything big. Mella really wants to go shopping and there’s this Ramen place I’ve been wanting to check out. Like I said nothing big just…it’d be nice to hang out.”

Feeling her lips curl into a small smile Sasha nods after a short moment of contemplating. It’s not anything big, like Bayley said. It could also do her some good to step out for a bit. That’s not exactly something she’s done save for traveling between the gym and her apartment.

“That…actually sounds like it could be really good.”

Her grin widens at Bayley’s look of shock quickly transitions into something of excitement. This could be good for her. At least for now it will give her more of a chance to pretend that everything is normal.

* * *

“Jesus Christ…” Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly as she stares down at the body laid spread on the white marble floors. The deep red splotch directly contrasts with the light hues that decorate the house. The scene alone almost reminds her of something from a soap opera. She walks over to the body and stares down at the man staring lifelessly towards the ceiling. “Who’s this guy?” 

“Was hoping you could tell me. Wish I could say that was all of it,” Becky mumbles with her hands still stuffed deep into her pockets as she spins around and heads towards the office.

Charlotte trails behind her, taking note of the streak leading from the body to the inside carpeting of the office. Her eyes dart around momentarily before they land on the mess at the poker table. If it were possible, her eyebrows nearly lift right off her forehead as she gets closer to the scene. “Jesus…Christ…” she repeats again as she bends over just a bit to get a good look at the men seated around the table. “The fuck happened here?”

Fortunately, Charlotte is too busy inspecting the table to notice Becky’s grimace and brief hesitation. Hands still in her pockets, Becky shrugs as she schools her features into a look of nonchalance. “Was like that when I got here. Was checking out a new business opportunity and walked into this.”

“Shit. Well, guess you could say you’re not the only one who was looking into a job,” Charlotte pauses behind one of the men hunched over the table. She grabs hole of the greasy ponytail nearly dripping into one of the filled glasses and lifts the man’s head. Immediately she snorts and rolls her eyes. “Now this idiot I know,” she shakes her head. “This is whose house this is.”

“How do you figure?”

“He’s the one in charge. Well, he was before whoever it was came in and offed him and the rest of his people. Almas. Considers himself something of a ‘aristocratic entrepreneur,” a snort. “Translates to high end drug dealer.”

Becky raises her eyes and nods slowly. “Name sounds familiar, but I wouldn’t have been able to put a name to a face. He cartel?”

“Something like that. Could also say he’s a bit of a small fish in a big pond. I only know who he is because I vetted him when he wanted a meeting with you. Fucker thought he was suave and tried to charm me in the process,” Charlotte pauses and makes a face of disgust. “I shot him in the nuts and declined his offer on your behalf.”

Becky, who had been in the process of lighting the cigarette in her mouth, snorts and nearly inhales smoke the wrong way. “Why don’t I remember this?” she chuckles.

Charlotte shrugs and lets the man’s head fall back into the table with a thump. “Wasn’t important. Don’t suppose you did any investigating before you called me, huh? I mean he’s not you but, dude looks like he’s pretty well of for himself,” when there’s no immediate response, Charlotte looks up to find Becky staring off into the distance with her cigarette still hanging out of her mouth. “Beck?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Becky blinks owlishly before she realizes she needs to ash. “Oh, yeah I’m good. What’d you say?”

“I asked if you did any exploring. Since the guy’s offed anyway. Could find something of value.”

Becky clicks her tongue before shaking her head. “I’ll have someone come in and clean it out later. For now, we just need to…” she wafts her hands towards the bodies. “I don’t know these guys well and yeah I didn’t do this, but I’d rather not leave them slumped like this for someone to think I did.”

“I’ll get some of the guys out here then,” Charlotte nods her head as she moves around the table again. Her hands fall to the sides of one of the men’s necks, and immediately a frown creases her forehead. “When’d you say you found these guys?”

“This morning,” Becky shrugs, while casually ashing her cigarette. “Why?”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow and interest before glancing down at the body. The same body that is just a tad too cold in certain places. Her eyes dart around the bullets littering the table before they look back up to lock directly with Becky who’s watching her closely. Charlotte gets a sudden chill she hasn’t in a very long time. Eventually she’s shaking her head and shrugging as casually as she can muster.

“Nothing. Let’s get moving, yeah?”


	9. Chapter 9

The wind brushes her hair back and away from her shoulders, creating a scene that is something straight out of a movie. The setting sun casts out an orange glow that creates a calming feeling of warmth across her face. Combine that with the soft breeze and the occasional splash of waves, and she couldn’t think of an even better way to spend the early evening.

She glances do at the nearly empty wine glass in her hand before bringing it up to her lips. She can’t help but hum quietly as the smooth liquid hits her lips and being the wine fanatic that she is, she can’t even remember if there has ever been a time where she’s tasted something so incredibly. She imagines if perfection had a taste to it, it would most definitely be this wine.

Perfection.

It’s a word she’s been toying with a lot recently. Before, she would have scoffed because it’s a word that is used to loosely without anyone taking into account its purest definition. She remembers her eyes rolling on several occasions at such the casual use of ‘this is perfect’. Nothing in this world can surely be perfect. If everything had the potential to be perfect, then there would be no need for balance in society. Then comes the argument of who gets to make the decision of what is and is not perfect? How do people, things, and places become perfect? Who gets to decide the ultimate standard to compare all these things? She’s always hated the word for those very reasons.

Perhaps, she hated the word because she was a bit cynical in her past life. Nothing in her life had been anywhere near the world’s standards of ‘perfection’. Even though no one can exactly say what those standards are exactly, she knew that she wasn’t anywhere close to reaching them.

_‘Oh, but you’re beautiful. You’re successful. You have your own business. Everything’s perfect for you! You have the perfect life!’_

If she had a dollar for as many times as she heard those words in some form or another over the course of forever. She would always smile and nod along. Taking in the words with a tight smile and dead eyes while they filter in one ear and out there other. How anyone could look her in the face and tell her she of all people is anything closely related to perfection, she’ll never know. She didn’t even believe in the word after all.

That was before though. That was before she had been called to step out of her cozy world that she’s held close to her for so long. Before she had been introduced to excitement that she really only thought existed in badly written sappy movies where the ending is predictable at about a thousand yards away. That was before everything that was happening now.

Sasha is jolted out of her internal monologues when an arm snakes itself around her waist. She can’t help the grin that splits her face as she finds the familiarity of a warm solid body pressing into her from behind. A chin comes to rest on her shoulder and in the breeze, the familiar smell of artic cologne, mint, and tobacco wafts across her nose.

“Y’know…it really ruins the nap when you just decide to get up and leave…”

Sasha feels her face grow warm at the hot breath bouncing against the side of her neck. Her free hand comes up to rest atop the hand around her waist as she leans back into the embrace. “We’ve been sleeping all day,” she giggles quietly.

“So?” that raspy, sleep filled voice all but huffs into her ear. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Rolling her eyes, Sasha takes another sip from her wineglass. “I couldn’t fall back asleep because you snore.”

A scoff.

“I do _not_ snore.”

“Oh, you absolutely snore, but it’s kinda cute.”

There’s a pause where the couple falls silent to simply take in the moment. This is something Sasha would akin to perfection. The warmth that’s always left to settle in her stomach is what she imagines perfection feels like. The perfect touches, the perfect smiles, and the perfect kisses. She’s never experienced anything like this to know, but she feels like this is as probably as close as anyone can get.

“I also wanted to watch the sunset. It’s so beautiful here and I just…” she lets out a quiet sigh and lets her head fall back. “We really need to come out here more often.”

She can feel the vibrations from the low chuckle as hands now come to settle at her hips. “This is the third time this week we’ve taken the boat out…” is the mumbled laugh before a kiss is dropped to her shoulder.

“I know, but it’s just so different than going out somewhere in the city, you know?”

“I mean…there’s always my apartment.”

“Your sky mansion,” Sasha rolls her eyes again. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I know exactly what you mean. We can just be away from everything…and I get to have you all to myself out here.”

Sasha bites her bottom lip and finds herself blushing. “You mean you haven’t got tired of me bugging you about this yet?” she asks, trying to take some of the attention off herself.

“What? Baby…you know I could _never_ get tired of you. Jeez, Sash. This is literally the only thing you ask me for. You know how much you like to fight me whenever I try to spoil you.”

“You don’t have to spoil me…”

“Too bad, because I’m gonna.”

Sasha’s eyes slip closed and she laughs quietly. “You are…kinda insufferable.”

“Yeah well…insufferable, charming, irresistible. Just a few things…” a pause. “But you love me.”

“I do…a lot.”

Sasha’s eyes are still closed as she finds herself spun around and gently pressed into the railing. Her lips are captured in a warm kiss that leaves her bare feet curling against the slightly damp wood of the deck. Her entire body feels like it’s been ignited by a flame that leaves her tingling.

She reaches a hand up and tangles it into thick hair, while pressing herself forward. A quiet moan escapes her lips as a tongue gently massages her own, teasing her for just a moment before vacating back to the outside edges of her lips. She can’t help the involuntarily whimper of displeasure that soon follows.

“You’re such a tease…” she husks quietly while trying to catch her breath.

Leaning forward as best she can, she tries to reinitiate the kiss. Instead, she’s taken completely off guard and startled by a hand suddenly reaching up to grasp at her throat. The action causes her eyes to immediately fly open.

What she sees causes Sasha’s heart to sink to the very pits of her stomach. Becky’s eyes are completely black and her face a ghastly and cold. Her empty gaze is unwavering as the grip only seems to tighten by the second.

“Beck…” Sasha tries to gasp for air as she feels like her throat is being crushed. Her wineglass slips from her fingers and falls to the deck, exploding on impact around her feet. Her hands fly up to claw at Becky’s grip as best she can, but her attempts are only futile.

Her vision is starting to fade around the edges while she struggles to breathe. “Be…ky…” she croaks hoarsely while still clawing at the skin of Becky’s hand and wrist. She can feel the breaking of skin beneath her fingernails, but it has no effect of wavering the other woman’s cold stare.

“Wha…p…please.”

Becky’s face still doesn’t change and it’s with an incredibly amount of strength does she press Sasha further back into the railing. Sasha’s eyes widen in fear as she feels the joint weightlessness from her lack of oxygen but also being bent about halfway over the railing. It’s everything she can do to try and fight, but the vice grip cutting off her air supply leaves her head swimming.

“B-Beck…”

It all happens way too fast for her to comprehend anything given the state she’s in. The world does a disgusting spin and the scream that’s torn from her throat is practically silent. The large splash echoes in her subconscious, but soon everything goes dark.

The world is mute when she eventually comes to. Her lungs are screaming for air and when she manages to open her eyes, she immediately squints trying to make out her surroundings in the darkness of the water. Her heart immediately begins to pound, and she looks up with see the bright glare of the sun and the boat sitting idle on the surface.

She immediately begins to scramble while trying to hold her breath as best she can. Every motion she makes to swim towards the surface proves futile as she feels like she’s only getting further and further away. She loses the momentary bout against her lungs and upon exhaling, she reactively inhales only to take in a massive amount of water. 

Bubbles float around her as her lungs continue to fill with water while she tries her best to stop her body’s instinctive reaction to try and breathe. Her arms are becoming far too tired to fight anymore, and as her vision once again starts to fade around the edges, she can just barely make out a familiar shadow casually leaning over the boat railing.

Water assaults her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth as her muscles finally tighten up to the point she can’t move anymore. Her fingers become lax on her final effort to swim upwards, but the darkness once again closes in. She’s floating aimlessly as she no longer has the energy to fight anymore. She’s unsure if she’s imagining the sudden grip around her ankle, but she’s unable to fight it as the unknown force seems to drag her deeper into the depths.

******

She hits the ground hard so hard she can’t help but scream in response. Her breathing is erratic, and her chest hurts something terrible as she takes in greedy gulps of air. Her lips and fingers are tingling as she continues to attempt to calm herself. She manages to push herself up on her hands and her fingers are gripping tightly into the carpet.

Coming to, Sasha glances around and closes her eyes to sigh quietly when she realizes she’s on the floor in her bedroom. The blankets have been halfway dragged to the floor, still tangled in her legs no doubt from where she took a tumble over the edge. A portion of the sheets is wrapped tightly around her ankle, no doubt the same place where that grip had dragged her under in her memory.

No. Not a memory. Her nightmare. It was at first a memory, one of her fondest memories if she had to get technical and exact. Said memory certainly hadn’t panned out that way in real time, though. Not at all.

Sasha smiles almost bitterly as she hesitantly reaches her fingers up towards her throat. They’re slightly trembling as they ghost along her skin. Eventually, she sighs softly upon realizing that there’s no pain there, despite the fact it had felt incredibly vivid in her subconscious. It’s one of the only things that hadn’t left behind some sort of repercussion. Despite her breathing having calmed, her chest still aches from her massive heaving episode.

This isn’t the first time she’s had a nightmare like this and if Sasha had to make any sort of guesses about her near future, she knows that it probably won’t be the last. Some dreams are harder to pick through than others. Some will obviously present them as dreams and go by rather quick that while she’ll still find herself startling awake, she’s somehow able to rein herself n rather quickly. Other dreams will be incredibly vivid, too vivid to the point where she’s lulled into believing it’s something that’s real. Those dreams are always the most difficult. They’re the ones that usually lull her into a false sense of security. They’re so vivid that they leave her asking herself the same questions; “what is the nightmare and what is reality?”. So many times she wonders if her haunting her own apartment day to day is actually some horrific manifestation of her own fears and insecurities. So many times she’s left waiting for herself to wake up in the master bedroom on that boat or in that penthouse, shrouded in soft sheets and wrapped in strong arms. _That_ is what she prays is her reality.

She takes her time in getting off the floor, eventually standing up on wobbly legs. She doesn’t much bother with picking her bedding up off the floor. Instead, she remains idle next to her bed, staring almost bitterly at the mattress because she just knows she’s not going to be falling asleep again. She usually doesn’t anyway. In times where she wakes up like this, she doesn’t find herself at ease enough to close her eyes again.

She’s startled by her own gasp at the sound of something knocking against her window. Her eyebrows are furrowed deeply as she cautiously eyes the glass pane. She glances around her bedroom for a weapon, anything to defend herself with even as the rationality of being on one of the upper floors vanishes.

Upon further inspection, Sasha sighs quietly as she realizes it’s just the usual tree branch grazing against the glass. The wind is a bit high tonight and this isn’t exactly something that’s out of the ordinary. She’s spoken with the maintenance team at her building about possibly trimming the branches, but so far nothing has been done about it.

Her self-deprecating mumbles are unintelligible as she tangles a hand into her hair and heads off in the direction of her closet. She doesn’t spend a lot of time looking for clothes as she throws on the first pair of jeans and hoodie she can find. She can’t spend too much time diving into her own closet because she knows there are things in there that will jog too many nightmares. No. Too many memories.

She grabs a brush from her table before blindly taking it through her hair. She keeps her back turned away from her vanity while she does so. The large black splotch covering the mirror serves its purpose, much like the many others in her apartment, but still sometimes it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough. She often tries to keep her back to them as best she can.

Even though it’s the middle of the night and probably prime time for driving, Sasha knows she’s not up to it. Usually after waking up like that, it takes her a good hour or so to properly even feel like herself and she’s had way too many close calls behind the wheel to warrant that as a risk worth taking. All in all, she doesn’t drive much anyway.

Her breath is slightly shaky as she exhales into the brisk night air. She risks a brief glance at her phone and worries her bottom lip for a moment before she’s stuffing it back into her pocket. It’s late, or it could be argued that it’s early depending on how one would look at it. She had memorized the directions in her head, and she huffs one last time before she’s throwing her hood up and briskly making her way down the sidewalk.

* * *

“You sure you’re gonna be good to close up by yourself?”

Silence.

“Sasha?”

Still nothing.

“Hey…Sash?”

Sasha hadn’t even much realized she had zoned out until there’s a gentle tapping on her arm. When she comes to, she realizes that she had completely left planet earth, but that’s something she can attribute to the complete lack of sleep from earlier in the early hours of the morning. She has to blink a few times before putting a gentle smile on her face before turning her attention to one of her trainers who is eyeing her curiously.

“Hey, sorry. What’s up?”

The other woman only continues to watch Sasha with a raised eyebrow. “I asked if you were good if I took off,” she trails off momentarily as her boss starts to space out again. This time, she follows Sasha’s line of sight all the way to the gym floor where the same blonde stranger has been alternating weight sets for the better part of an hour. The trainer’s eyes then dart back to Sasha before she raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh, I see.”

Sasha quickly frowns. “What do you see?”

The trainer laughs. “Same thing you see apparently,” she nods her head across the room. “So…who is she?”

“She’s…no one. Just a friend I’m letting put in some work here.”

“Just a friend, eh? Seems like a pretty close friend if you’re letting her workout here for free and you’ve been busy looking for the better part of thirty minutes.”

Sasha rolls her eyes, but she’s still privy to the foreign feeling of her cheeks beginning to warm. “Do not even start,” she tries to laugh it off but it comes out a bit uneasy because even she isn’t quite sure how long she’d been zone out much less being zoned out in this particular direction.

“Hey, I’m not starting anything. I’m just sayin’. You’re obviously a catch and she’s a half step away from a Greek god. Could be somethin’ worth explorin’.”

Shaking her head, Sasha sets her clipboard down on the desk before she’s laughing quietly. “It’s nothing like that,” she mumbles, pausing for a brief moment before she shakes her head again. “You’re good to take off. I’ll close everything down.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve got it. You enjoy the rest of your night.”

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” her trainer laughs and they exchange a handful of pleasantries before Sasha is left to her own devices behind the desk.

From there, she works diligently to close down the front of house POS before she’s heading over towards the weight training floor. She hesitates for a moment, just watching as the other woman appears to be intensely focused on finishing out this particular set of barbell reps. She lightly bites down on her bottom lip before she says anything.

“You know, if you were committed to running about half as much as you are to this, you’d be able to take on your first 5K next week.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes and sets the barbell at her feet. “One of these days I’m gonna show you up. Then you’re not gonna have any of that toxic ammo to sass me with.”

“Toxic ammo? Please. The day _you_ manage to outrun _me_ , I’ll shave my fucking head.”

“Is that a legit bet, Banks?”

This time, it’s Sasha who rolls her eyes as she tosses Charlotte a towel. “Use that. You’re kinda gross right now.”

Toweling her face, Charlotte lets the towel sit over her shoulder before she grabs hold of the barbell and walks it over towards the weight rack. “You about to head out?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking of leaving a lot of this stuff for in the morning and just calling it an early night.”

“Ah, cool,” Charlotte nods while carefully eyeing the other woman. There had been something in her tone for the majority of the day. She hadn’t said anything upon her arrival to the gym, but there was something in the way that Sasha had been moving through the day almost absently that had her a bit worried.

“Thanks for this by the way,” Charlotte offers when they’re finally walking through the parking lot.

Sasha tries to shrug almost absently despite looking rather conflicted. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Ah, I mean. Kind of. You letting me use your gym is kind of a big deal—”

“—it’s fine—”

“—especially since you’re so stubborn you refuse to let me pay you—”

“Charlie, it’s fine.”

Charlotte is left blinking quickly and confusedly. She quickly scans her memories for a time she’s ever heard that from someone other than Becky, much less heard it from Sasha. The quick run through comes up empty and she’s left awkwardly clearing her throat at the realization.

If Sasha noticed the hesitation, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she’s nervously biting down on her lip as she goes to stand in front of the trunk of her car. “Actually there…there’s something I wanted to ask you, if it’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“Yeah well,” Sasha chuckles almost bitterly as she opens her trunk and dumps her purse and backpack inside.

Charlotte only waits and watches curiously as Sasha hesitates before she’s digging through her backpack. A small frown of confusion plays at her features while she shifts from foot to foot, waiting for the aforementioned question that hasn’t quite come yet. Her frown only deepens as Sasha finally pulls something from the bag.

The weighted metal feels foreign in Sasha’s hands. Her hands are slightly trembling, and she has to physically remind herself to take a deep breath. She blinks slowly before gazing down at the object in her hands before finally turning away from her car.

Charlotte’s eyes dart down to Sasha’s hands and then immediately go wide. “Sasha, what the fuck!?”

“No, no, I know I just…” Sasha laughs nervously. “I got it this morning.”

“From where!? Why the fuck do you even have that!?”

“I…I don’t know. It was just…I felt like I needed it and…” Sasha takes a deep breath. “Look, you can say no, but…can you teach me how to use it?”

Charlotte’s eyes fall back to the gun in the very hands she knows for a fact she never needed to see one in. “Sasha…” she whispers quietly.

“Charlotte, please…” Sasha’s voice has gone pleading as her eyes are suddenly glassy. “I-I don’t want to be scared in my own home anymore and I just…I need this. Please…”

The tone of broken desperation accompanied with pleading eyes that have suddenly gone red and glasses leaves Charlotte with a lot to think about in such a short amount of time. She rubs at the back of her neck, quickly contemplating any suitable response to such a request. A request that she honestly has no business having anything to do with.

“Please…”

This final whisper does Charlotte in. She sighs quietly and her shoulders fall upon the exhale. She can only nod, biting her lip for a moment before she can respond.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aheh...ahehehhe...yikes


	10. Chapter 10

“So…pretty much, these are gonna be your basic parts here. You’ve got your bullets obviously, your magazine, your…Sasha…?”

Silence.

A sigh.

“Sash, are you paying attention?”

Sasha blinks rapidly as she breaks the staring match she had been previously having with the series of objects laid out in front of her. She looks up at the woman next to her and blinks a few more times before she nods quickly. “Yeah…yeah, I’ve got you.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow and eyes the pieces for a moment before grasping the empty magazine between her fingers and lifting it. “What’s this part?”

“Um…”

Sighing quietly, Charlotte puts the magazine back down on the raised counter before propping her hand against it. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’m not so sure if—”

“I’ve got it,” Sasha cuts in quickly while shifting back and forth on her feet. Her face pulls into a brief frown of concentration before she grabs hold of the same exact piece Charlotte had just put down. “This is the magazine…right?”

They haven’t been at this for very long with Charlotte doing a majority of the talking and Sasha doing everything she can to pay attention. For the most part, her eyes have just been locked on the dismembered pieces of the gun laid out in front of her. A small part of her has been screaming at her for the most part. The same part that hasn’t stopped screaming since she bought the damn thing. However, there’s been a much louder part. That same part that doesn’t necessarily scream but methodically haunts her in between her daydreams and nightmares. The part of her that tells her this is the only thing she can do because she’s been driven to this point. Ever the more irrational, this voice had somehow been louder than the one screaming. This voice had been the one she listened to.

Charlotte quietly eyes the woman very carefully before she nods her affirmation. “That’s right…”

Suddenly feeling very scrutinized, Sasha tries to adopt an aura of casual nonchalance as she picks up the emptied frame of the weapon. “How come it’s just us here, anyways? Aren’t places like this usually packed or whatever?”

“Technically, it’s not open, but the owner owes me a favor so…” Charlotte shrugs before shaking her head. She reaches out and lays her hand over the gun before lowering it from where Sasha pretends to be examining it closely. “What’s the real reason you asked me to do this?”

Staring down at the gun, Sasha ponders for a moment before shrugging. “I told you. I’m tired of being afraid at home and I…I want to know how to protect myself.”

Again, Charlotte lifts her eyebrows. “Aren’t you disciplined in fighting and stuff?”

“It’s not the same thing…” Sasha’s voice drops down quietly. “I need this.”

“Sash, I just…if you’re worried about home invasions or—”

“I’m not worried about any fucking home invasions! I just…fuck, Charlie, I need this okay? I just need it. If you don’t want to help me just say it and I’ll apologize for wasting your time, but I asked you because I trust you and I…I need it.”

No matter how much Charlotte wants to voice her disagreement, she doesn’t. She only nods and heaves a great sigh as she holds up her hands, resigning to the fact she’s been bested for the time being. “Alright….alright. I’ll help you. Just…try to pay attention, okay?” she shakes her head before holding she’s lifting the body of the gun to examine it and eventually her eyebrows furrow deeply. “Where’d you get this anyway?”

Once again, Sasha shrugs. “I went to this 24-hour shop and they had them. I paid cash for it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Charlotte hisses as she traces her fingers over where the serial number _should_ be, but instead it appears to be worn away by a file. “Yeah, if we’re gonna do this, we’re definitely getting you one that doesn’t have the fucking serial number scratched off.”

Sasha frowns and leans over to peer at what Charlotte’s talking about. “What? Wait, what does that mean?”

“Nothing you need to have anything to do with,” Charlotte mutters before setting the gun down. “Let’s start again, yeah? So you’ve got your basic parts here…”

This time, Sasha opts to listen closely. Occasionally she’ll nod intently and point out something she has a question about. There’s only a handful of times where she has to mentally smack herself as she starts to drift off, but thankfully it’s not anything that turns out to be too noticeable.

“Do you think you’re ready to try it?”

A sinister part of her wants to point out that she’s done it once before, but she refrains. She looks around for a moment before reaching for the unopened box of bullets on the counter. She jerks her hand back when Charlotte quickly swipes the box off to the side. “Okay…what?”

“We aren’t gonna use those yet.”

“…how am I supposed to learn how to shoot if I don’t actually shoot anything?”

“Well first I gotta make sure you know how to hold the damn thing,” Charlotte then nods her head towards the dismembered parts. “And load it properly. You’ll watch me a few times and then you’ll have a go at it.”

Sasha tries not to look like a petulant child even as she stands with her hands on her hips while Charlotte demonstrates loading and unloading the gun enough times just for it to fall on the side of being repetitively annoying. She finds herself getting lost while watching the other woman’s hands move methodically while demonstrating the proper technique and a series of confusing thoughts sprint their way through her mind before she has the chance to tackle them and question their meaning.

Loading and unloading the gun proves to be a lot less complicated than Charlotte had made it out to be with the longevity of her demonstration. Sasha picks up on that portion rather quickly and soon she finds herself holding the weapon it most of its entirety in her hand. Sans the bullets, this is the closest she’s come to being back in the exact same contemplating position she had been in that night all those months ago.

“Before we load it, we need to make sure you can hold. Go ahead and aim it and then I’ll adjust you from there.”

Sasha nods before raising the gun and pointing it down the ally towards the paper target hanging a few several years away. On her face is a look of determination, but it falls immediately when there’s a quiet snort from behind her. She angles her head and frowns when she finds Charlotte standing there with a bemused expression. “What? What’d I do?”

Charlotte shakes her head while continuing to snicker quietly. “Nothing, I can just tell you watch too many action movies. You’ll wanna make sure you keep your feet shoulder width apart. You can stagger if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“Oh…like this?”

“Not that much.”

“…this?”

“No, ah. Hang on.”

Sasha frowns as she hears shuffling behind her and she jumps slightly at the sudden feeling of hands coming to firmly rest at her hips. Immediately her cheeks warm and it’s everything she can do not to let the gun slip from her grasp. She’s incredibly thankful she’s face out towards the targets as her body is positioned into what’s the proper stance.

Charlotte uses the inside of her foot to nudge Sasha’s feet apart just a bit more before she nods her approval. “Yeah, that’s good,” she reaches around and nudges Sasha’s arms up. “You’ve got the grip down, just raise your arms a little bit more.”

“How come you know all about this anyways?” Sasha asks after having regain some of the moisture in her throat from where it had gone dry. “Like, all the proper ways and stuff…”

“I did firearms instructing in the military, so I know a thing or two about those ‘proper ways’.”

Sasha blinks rapidly before she’s halfway turning around to look at the other woman in complete surprise. “ _You_ were in the military? I didn’t know that…”

Charlotte tries to shrug it off. “You never asked. It’s also not something I offer up to people so…” she clears her throat. “How about we work on racking the slide next?”

Much like before, the next several minutes consist of basic knowledge instruction. Charlotte mostly going on about the weapon’s mechanisms and the importance of proper form and Sasha frequently reminding herself not to physically react to the woman occasionally pressing in closely behind her to correct something. There’s a particular instance when Charlotte firmly grasps her hips again to keep her from turning where she nearly drops the gun entirely.

It isn’t until Charlotte pulls back and loads the gun that everything suddenly becomes very real for Sasha. Her throat suddenly goes dry and her hands become the slightest bit clammy as she watches as the magazine is loaded into the gun with a final ‘click’. As it’s laid back on the counter, the only thing she can do is stare at it absently.

Charlotte notices this and quietly clears her throat while gently nudging Sasha’s elbow. “Hey, you’ve taken in a lot of information today. It’s cool if you wanna stop and we can try again some other time.”

Worrying her lip, Sasha eventually shakes her head. “No, I’m…I’m ready,” her fingers are slightly shaking as she reaches for the gun and takes it in her hands. Her heart jumps at the familiarity of its weight and she hates that she instantly recalls the vivid memories of this exact feeling.

Licking her lips, she returns to her stance before aiming the gun down the range. She does as she had been previously shown and flips off the safety and, in that moment, she feels like she’s once again crossed the threshold and there isn’t a moment of turning back. She doesn’t even register the muffled pop of the first shot. It sounds so far off in the distance, if it weren’t for the very faint rise of smoke from the muzzle, she would have definitely thought she would have imagined it. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before squeezing the trigger once again.

* * *

Sasha is clutching her purse a little tighter than necessary while walking through the parking lot. Her hands are a bit sore and even as she momentarily releases the tightknit grip she has on her purse strap. She can’t help but sigh when she glances down at her hands and realizes she’s still slightly shaking.

“Well, for you first time at the range it’s not too bad,” Charlotte states holding up the paper target. She chuckles softly while tracing her fingers around the paper’s edge. “At least you managed to hit the target.”

“Yeah,” Sasha laughs quietly while eyeing the bullet holes that riddle the paper everywhere on the paper except the inside of the body outline. “Guess I’m only good when it counts, huh…”

Charlotte frowns immediately. She takes in how the other woman appears to simultaneously tense and deflate at the same time. It’s something she’s noticed for the past hour or so and now she’s left to _kick_ herself for not saying anything. If she’s being honest, it’s something she’s definitely noticed beyond just today, but she hasn’t quite had an idea on how to approach the subject if she should at all.

“Sasha I…” she sighs quietly while her grip on the paper target seems to tighten. “Look, I know we haven’t talked about it and we don’t have to. But…and I’m not trying to assume anything by this, but if you haven’t talked about it with me, I can’t imagine you’ve talked about it with anyone else.”

“There’s nothing to talk about…” Sasha mutters and even she isn’t convinced by her own tone.

Charlotte huffs. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I’m only gonna know from what Becky told me and somehow…listen, I’m not going to force you. I _can’t_ force you, but all of this,” she pauses and lifts the paper target. “All this is happening for a reason, and I think the sooner you confront that reason the sooner you won’t have to live your life afraid anymore.”

Sasha bites down on her bottom lip to keep her jaw from trembling. Charlotte did get one thing right, she doesn’t _want_ to live her life afraid anymore. To Sasha, however, the only thing that makes sense in her mind is to completely forget. The sooner she’s able to forget is the only way she’ll be able to move forward. The only problem is, she _can’t_ forget. How will putting it out there in the world for someone else to experience stop the horrible images she sees every time she closes her eyes? How will that stop her from jumping every time she turns on the faucet for those short minutes to fill her bathtub? How will that stop anything that’s happened?

“I’m not like you,” Sasha’s whisper is soon accompanied by a tired laugh. “It’s not something I can just forget.”

“I’m not saying you have to forget I just—”

“I _want_ to forget. I need to…how else am I supposed to go back to normal if I don’t?”

Charlotte’s words die out when she realizes she doesn’t have much of an argument. “Sasha…” she’s cut off by her phone vibrating from her pocket. Huffing quietly, she pulls it out and stares at it before she shakes her head and lets it go to voicemail. “I know you want to forget and if I could make that happen you know I would do that in a heartbeat, but…” she swears when her phone starts ringing again.

“Work…” Sasha speaks it as more of statement rather than a question. “If you need to go that’s fine. I can get an uber or walk or something.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take you home just…” the vibrating starts up again. “Jesus Christ…” she mumbles before intentionally sending the call to voicemail. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Sasha thinks for a moment before shaking her head. “It could be important…”

“Well, I haven’t gotten any angry voicemails or texts so…” Charlotte laughs. “I’m serious. I’ll take you home. It’s no problem.”

Sasha’s eyes fall momentarily as she appears to be mulling something over in her head. For a long time, she appears as if she’s sitting on a question that she eventually. Perhaps it’s a question she has no business asking in the first place anyway.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure…it’s fine,” Charlotte takes a quiet deep breath while glancing at her phone again. “Let’s…yeah, let’s get you home.”

* * *

Grunting, Becky all but flings her phone across the bar where it skids and lands on the floor with a clattered. She glares sharply at it and the irrational anger in her mind nearly causes her to draw her gun and shoot the damn thing until there’s nothing left behind but glass and melted metal. She doesn’t. Instead, she only casts it one last glare before regarding it as an afterthought in place for reaching for the half empty glass in front of her.

Her fingers close around the glass as she lifts her hand to bring it to her lips. The contents of the glass slightly splash her from the slight tremors in her hand. Before she can take a sip, her grip on the glass tightens and she roars in anger before throwing it against the nearest wall. The glass explodes everywhere on impact leaving a dark stain splattered and dripping against that wall.

Becky is gripping her bar counter so tight it looks as if the veins in her knuckles are about ready to burst. She loses track of time as she’s taking several calming deep breaths before eventually relaxing the hold. Due to work, it’s been approximately four hours since she’s last had a drink and the repercussions have left her incredibly on edge.

Her eyes dart to the two silver metal briefcases on the bar in front of her. Both have their lids open and she reaches in and pulls out one of the many thick stacks of hundreds. A bitter laugh escapes her as she thinks back to a time where such a sight would have made her happy. The feeling of euphoria would have been something far to beyond the realms of rational explanation. Now? The sight of the bills nearly makes her sick to her stomach.

“Was it worth it…” she bitterly asks herself, her voice gruff and hoarse from all the time she ‘s spent not speaking.

Scoffing, she slams the cases shut and drags both cases off the counter. She pauses momentarily on her way to the door, mentally checking if she has her gun and keys. The last thing on her mind is her phone that still lay discarded halfway across the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler here! Comments and kudos always welcome :3


	11. Chapter 11

_**Sicilia, Italia** _

“Holy fucking…”

Becky’s eyes are incredibly wide as she stares into the duffle bag laying unzipped on the desk in front of her. If anyone were to peer closer, they would see that it looks like there eyes twinkling and dancing in her eyes. Hell, they might as well be as she finds herself blinking slowly yet numerously. There’s a part of her that almost reaches up to pinch herself just to double check her own state of consciousness.

She’s no stranger to seeing money like this. Over the past six years, she’s seen more stacks and bands than she ever though she would be around in her whole lifetime. This though. This is somehow a bit different. This feels different. This is like…something so close than she can feel the smoothness of the bills beneath her fingertips. This is literally so close she can taste it.

“Looks good, eh?”

Becky finds herself jumping slightly as a hand comes down and claps her rather roughly on the shoulder. She immediately relaxes, however, and only nods her head slowly while her attention drifts back to the duffle bag. “Very…” she initially responds with an almost dazed whisper.

The man’s laugh is deep as he pauses momentarily to take a pull from the cigarette hanging from his mouth. The smoke spirals out of his nose and with a quick flick of his wrist, the ash is falling to the wooden floors, just narrowly missing the shiny leather of his shoes. He laughs again.

“Pretty much the most beautiful thing on this fuckin’ planet. Hell, probably even more beautiful than those babes walkin’ ‘round down by the marina.”

Becky can only nod absently. He notices her tranced state and laughs once more before replacing his cigarette. “You’ve got that look in your eye, Kid. Same look I got when I saw my first set of twins when I was your age. Probably younger, but listen,” he briefly pauses to ash his cigarette. “You did really good today, Kid. Me and the fellas? We’re real proud of ya.

“Ah, c’mon,” Becky shakes her head almost a little shyly. “I was only doin’ what ya taught me.”

“Yeah, yeah but listen. See here, this was your first time out on your own. Out there handlin’ business by yourself. That shit? That shit ain’t easy. If it was easy than any johnny two thumbs would be out here livin’ like us, but they ain’t. You, Kid? You got a natural talent for this shit. You’re really gonna make somethin’ of yourself one day.”

For some reason, this strikes a chord in Becky. She inhales just a bit quicker than usual, but she mentally forces herself to relax while still processing the words. Six years ago, she would’ve laughed and probably spit on the person that told her that. Now? She can’t help btu nod along at the prospect because maybe, just _maybe_ it’s something that’ll be true.

“So what happens to it?” she asks, looking up to the man watching her proudly.

He nods his head back and forth momentarily as if he’s entertaining the though of pondering something. He even takes a few pulls from his cigarette before nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. “I dunno, I mean. You usually know how these things work right? We all gotta distribute the cuts the right way and all that shit. But well, me and the boys did a little bit of talkin’ and we came to a bit of an agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“Yeah, ya know. We was thinkin’ since this was your first big one and you’re the big 2-0 today we thought that we’d let you keep the take.”

Becky’s eyes bug out so wide it’s a wonder they don’t pop right out of her head. Her mouth immediately falls open and she isn’t even shy about how shocked she must look as she looks up at him with disbelief. “Y-you’re serious?”

“Yeah, pretty fuckin’ serious,” he leans across the desk and drags the duffle bag a little bit closer to the edge. “It’s all yours.”

“Fuck…” Becky’s whisper gets lost as soon as it leaves her lips. Her hands are slightly trembling as she reaches into the bag. This time, she fully allows her fingers to trace across the bills on the inside. She even takes a stack between her fingers and lifts it out, admiring the thickness of the bills bound together by a slim white band. This single stack is only one of the countless many making up the contents of that bag.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” he laughs. “Of course, we gotta show you how to make the shit look legitimate so you won’t end up with spikes crawling up your ass, but other than that, this is your take, Kid. We’re really fuckin’ proud of ya. There’s big things in this world for ya, hear me? You just gotta remember not to sit on it. Don’t wait for it to come to you. Just take it.”

Becky nods in understanding. “Thanks…” It’s the only thing she can think to say right now because the shock still hasn’t quite yet worn off.

“There’s one more thing we got ya. The boys all pitched in and well…we really think you’re gonna like it.”

She can’t help her curiosity, but she nods along once again as she’s instructed to grab the duffle bag. Once she swings it over her shoulder, she can’t help but feel like it’s gotten so much heavier than it was when she had brought it in. The thought brings a tiny smile to the very corner of her mouth.

As she’s lead from the large office, she’s immediately greeted with a series of applause and whistles by men all donning finely pressed suits. As she allows herself to be guided through the open parlor area, there are additional celebratory bumps and slaps to her shoulder while she finds herself involuntarily blushing at all the attention on her. This is the first time anything like this has happened and it’s left her with a feeling she can’t even put into words.

With the hand still firmly on her shoulder, Becky soon finds herself guided down a familiar hallway until she’s pulled to a stop in front of her own bedroom door. Her eyebrows immediately furrow together in confusion. “What’s this?”

“Like I said, the boys all pitched in and we got you somethin’,” the man shrugs before chuckling. “Heard they had a hard time pickin’ just ‘cause they wasn’t sure what you like and all, but overall I think they made a good choice. Go ahead.”

Becky’s frown is still prominent as she reaches out to turn the knob before slowly pushing the door open. As the door swings open, her eyes dart around for a moment before they’re widening, perhaps even larger than they had been in the office only a few minutes ago. Only difference this time is, instead of going completely slack-jawed, her mouth opens and closes several times while her brain tries to catch up and find words.

“I-I…”

“Take it that means you like it, huh?”

Her mouth hangs open just a bit as her eyes completely take in all of what’s in front of her. For the most part her room is completely out of the ordinary. There are only two things that stand out pretty prominently. The first thing is the set of lit candles set on the two nightstands on either side of her bed. The second thing, and this is perhaps the _most_ prominent thing, is the near naked blonde woman spread out comfortably across her mattress.

The woman is clad in only a sheer set of white lace that leaves little to nothing to anyone’s imagination. Her hair falls in curls around her shoulders and her red painted lips are slightly quirked upward in an enticing grin. Her long legs brush against one another only slightly as she shifts against the pillows.

“Listen, you spend as much time as you want in here, alright? You deserve this. Happy Birthday, Kid.”

Becky nearly trips completely as there’s one last rough pat to her shoulder. She barely inches into her room, clutching the strap of the duffle bag for dear life as the door clicks shut behind her. She momentarily glances over her should before she turns back towards her bed and swallows the thick lump in her throat.

Her feet seem to act on their own accord as she slowly shuffles her way towards the bed. She feels about two feet tall and suddenly incredibly warm as the woman’s slightly bemused stare seems to be going right through her. She can’t help it when her eyes immediately snap away, even though she just barely manages to take a cautious seat on the edge of her bed.

Her eyes slip closed momentarily as she hears a small shift next to her, and her grip on the duffle bag tightens even more. When she had been told the guys had ‘gotten her something’ this definitely wasn’t something that would have even shown up as a small blip on her radar. A heavy blush finds her cheeks the more she thinks about it.

“You don’t gotta be nervous.”

The woman’s voice is like silk and much closer than Becky had even realized. She’s embarrassed at the small jump she does when a hand carefully begins rubbing across the back of her shoulders. It’s everything she can do not to somehow manage to fall as she leans down enough to drop the duffle bag and kick it far underneath her bed.

“I-I…um…” she shakes her head and immediately begins playing with her fingers.

The woman chuckles lowly before reaching her free hand out to interrupt Becky’s fiddling. “Lemme guess…this be your first time?”

Becky nervously worries her bottom lip before nodding. “I’ve ah…never really…”

The woman shushes Becky by placing a finger against her lips. “You don’t gotta explain,” she chuckles again. Over the few short moments she has managed to shuffle over to the edge of the bed enough where she’s practically pressing herself into Becky’s side. “I wanna make this good for you, then. It’s your birthday, right?” her grin widens when she gets another nod in response. “Then now, I only need you to tell me you want it.”

After a series of calming deep breathes, Becky manages to nod one last time, this time it’s much more solid than the first few. Her next deep breath is audible as a curious hand slips underneath her shirt and begins lightly caressing the skin of her stomach. Lips soon quickly attach themselves to her next, nearly drawing out an audible moan.

Becky’s mind is in a hazy as she’s unable to keep up with the hands and lips exploring her. She soon finds herself motioned onto her back as the woman takes the opportunity to straddle her waist. Blonde curls fall around them like a curtain and Becky is nearly intoxicated by the smell of shampoo mixed with citrus.

“It’s okay for you to use your hands.”

Those lips return to her neck once more. Following the instruction, Becky brings her hands up and wills herself to stop shaking as she rests them on the woman’s hips where she thinks they should go. It takes a moment, but she eventually finds herself able to relax and even smile a bit. From there, it isn’t long before she’s no longer having to mentally tell herself to relax.

******

* * *

It’s loud. Everything is way too loud and way too sloppy. She grunts in displeasure while her grip tightens involuntarily. She presses in further, squeezing her eyes shut so much tighter that the act nearly proves painful.

“Shit…shit wait…wait that…that kinda hurts…”

The words are spoken way too loud and way too sudden and she suddenly feels as if she’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. A frown is firmly creasing her forehead and it’s everything she can do not to open her eyes unless she absolutely has to. When she finally opens them, she doesn’t much do anything to stop the sigh of irritation that escapes her.

“Sorry,” Becky mumbles, as she sits back just a tad. She can barely look down at the woman she has pinned to her bed beneath her. The woman whose skin is way too pale. Whose hair is _too_ light blue and cut way too short just above her shoulders.

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, I can be into that. You just gotta let me know first.”

Becky is only shaking her head as she looks away. She sighs again and brushes off the hand that reaches up to caress her shoulder but not before catching the brief glimpse of irritation around the skin of the woman's wrists. “Think I’m gonna go pour a drink…take your time here or whatever.”

She doesn’t wait for much of a response before she’s rolling off the bed. She disappears into her closet for only a brief moment before she’s reemerging in a tank top and a pair of jeans. She doesn’t so much as cast a second glance before she’s leaving the room and trudging her way down the stairs.

The voices in her head are much too loud as she makes a beeline for the bar. She doesn’t so much as get halfway there when she hears noises coming from her foyer. Instinctively, she reaches towards her waistband, and immediately curses herself for leaving her gun upstairs. Before she can make the move towards the one tucked underneath the other side of the bar, she sighs when she sees the source of the noise finally appear in her lounge.

“Christ Charlie…”

“Sorry…didn’t mean to scare you,” Charlotte mumbles while dragging a hand through her wet hair. Her eyes immediately flit from Becky to the bar and back to Becky before she’s lifting her eyebrows.

Becky is staring back with a similar look as her eyes follow the trail of puddles the other woman has tracked into her house. “What are you? A hound? I gotta tell you about bringing the whole outside into my house?”

Charlotte rolls her eyes while she removes her coat and drapes it over one of the barstools. “Fuck off. I walked here and it was right when the building got into view that the fucking sky decided to open up.”

Snorting, Becky casually leans against the bar. “Probably karma coming at you for forgetting how a phone works.”

“Hey, you definitely can’t say anything. You never answer when I call back.”

“I shouldn’t have to. Wouldn’t have to if you answered it the first time. Where’ve you been anyways?”

If anyone would look close enough, they would see Charlotte’s moment of hesitation. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone, and she’s left shrugging innocently. “Been following up on some leads. Most of them are some pretty low-end deals that do more for rep than cash, but worth checking out. I didn’t wanna bug you about it.”

Becky nods and hums quietly. She glances at the bottle sitting just a few inches out of reach and the back of her throat nearly burns just looking at it. She doesn’t reach for it though, no matter how badly her hand is cramping to do so.

Before she can question any further about these deals, her eyes dart towards the stair when she hears movement. She works to keep her face as neutral as possible as the woman descends the stairs looking as if she’s putting on some sort of show. Becky stiffens as the woman approaches her and steps into her personal space and tries to put on something akin to a seductive smile.

“I left my number on your pillow,” she leans in and drops her voice. “You know…just in case you think you need to relief some tension again.”

Becky squares her jaw and nods while trying to be as discrete as possible about the cash she slips into the woman’s hand. She immediately looks away with her jaw still pulled tight as she listens for the open and shut of her front door. She doesn’t need to be looking to feel the extent of the stare boring into her.

Charlotte’s eyebrows have gone so high they’ve just about disappeared. No doubt having taken in the woman’s appearance, if however brief, she’s left to slightly shake her head before she says anything. “You uh…seeing people again?”

“Right,” Becky’s snort is bitter as she finally gives into temptation and slips behind her bar. She disregards the bottle sitting on top of the bar in favor of searching for something a bit more desirable. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Okay…” Charlotte draws out the word. “I usually just show up whenever and…I don’t know. Guess something in me felt like I needed to check on you.”

Becky snorts again. “That’s ‘cause you’re my keeper, right?”

“Beck c’mon…” Charlotte groans. “You know it’s nothing like that. We just haven’t…I don’t know. It’s been a while since we’ve just talked outside of the usual shit and I’ve been worried about you.” 

Becky sees the way that Charlotte is eyeing the drink she just poured and instead of taking a sip she places it on the counter a lot harsher than necessary. “There. Happy?”

Charlotte blinks in confusion. “Happy? What am I supposed to be happy about?”

“I can stop whenever I want. That’s what you’re over there thinking right?”

“Becky that’s not—”

“But it is right?” Becky laughs as she becomes slightly more animated. “That’s what this has all been about right? You feeling like you have to fucking watch me or something. I see the way you fucking look at me. Like I’m some dumb kid who’s about to fall and hit the coffee table or something. I don’t fucking need that, Charlotte.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlotte’s hands move wildly for a split second before they’re falling limply at her sides. “If that’s what you wanna call it, then fine. If worrying about you is being your _fucking_ keeper, then _fine_. I’m your keeper, but that’s only because you’re as far from yourself as I’ve ever seen you and because I care about you, I’m worried. I’m worried about that time I had to carry you to Steph’s. I’m worried about that time you call me early in the morning and I show up to a buncha dead guys. I’m worried about all those times I don’t fucking see because who the fuck knows what could happen. The worst part is? I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what you’re running from.”

Becky’s laugh is loud and booming as it is cold. An icy aura surrounds her as she goes rigid and eyes the other woman with a cold stare that’s terrifyingly foreign. “You think I’m running from something? What the fuck have I got to run from? _I’m_ running,” she pauses to laugh mirthlessly again. “Nah. Nah see, that’s…that’s where you’ve got it all wrong. _I’m_ not what’s running, Charlie. There’s only one thing. There’s only one thing on this earth that makes me feel any sort of attachment to this godforsaken earth and that…that’s what’s running from _me_.

Charlotte doesn’t have to ask to know. She can see it written all over Becky’s face even with that wild look in her eyes. Her own gaze drops to her shoes as she tries to work out something to say. Her thoughts are broken by another one of Becky’s laughs.

“It’s the only time I ever get any fucking sleep,” Becky shakes her head, her voice having dropped down to a rough whisper as she absently shakes her head. “It’s…it’s the only time I’m not aware of anything that’s happened and _is_ happening. I don’t wanna be aware of it, Charlie, because I did that and I _know_ I did that.”

The silence that settles over the room is heavy before it’s broken by Becky’s sudden movements of flinging yet another glass against the wall. The action leaves her suddenly pacing back and forth while gripping her hair tightly at the roots. Her breathing is erratic, and her heartrate is beginning to accelerate with each passing second.

“Beck…” Charlotte tries to approach quietly.

“Don’t!” Becky shouts, holding up a hand as she maintains the distance between the two of them. “I need to go.”

Charlotte is quickly shaking her head. “Beck no, you can’t just…lock it all up. You need to keep letting it—”

“Don’t!” This time Becky’s shout echoes. She hastily searches her counter before she’s snatching her keys and nearly knocking Charlotte over as she’s heading for the door. As she throws the door open, she pauses for a moment and holds out a firm finger. “Do not fucking follow me.

The door slamming leaves a resounding echo as she’s storming towards her elevator. Not content to wait for the doors to even open, she instead opts to take the stairs heading down several stories towards her garage. By the time she gets to her garage, she’s breathing a bit more harshly than she had been upstairs, and she doesn’t even think twice as she throws up the door to her Range.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, she pounds it a few times before she’s leaning her head back against the headrest while taking a series of breaths. The silence is almost deafening, and it leaves her incredibly restless as she finally starts her car. Her turns are harsh and reckless as she exits her garage out into the harsh downpour on the outside. Tires screech angrily against the wet pavement as she maneuvers in and out of dense afternoon traffic. She just barely catches a glance of herself in her rearview mirror and she’s never hated what she sees more in her entire life.


	12. Chapter 12

_**New York, New York** _

Becky is quite used to noises she may or may not hear on a regular basis in her back office. Well "office" she likes to say with heavy emphasis. In reality it's more like a glorified piece of shit supply closet she's converted into an office. The shitty sportbook and bar she bought not too long ago didn't exactly come with the space necessary for a full on office of operations. She was currently in the process of emptying out the bar and renovating it into something more exciting, profitable, and dare she say, appealing. She just had to stick it out just a little bit longer until the contractors got their shit together to get a move on a start.

Needless to say, she's pretty used to the bumps and rattles from the less than reliable plumbing and AC pipes that run right above her head. She's grown so accustomed to it that it's truly become nothing more than ignorable background noise. This time though, her ears pick up on a noise she's all too familiar with. If it were anyone else, they would've most definitely missed it, but Becky knows all too well how to identify the source of the near silent _pop_. A near silent pop that is almost immediately followed by a soft thud.

Clicking her tongue, she turns her attention to haphazardly sketching on her notepad with her right hand while her left slips into the hidden compartment just at the edge of her desk. As she continues to listen, she shakes her head in amusement at the heavy footfalls that get closer and closer to her front door. She leans back in her chair just as the door bursts open and she immediately fires a perfectly placed shot.

Of the two men who had burst into the room, her shot catches one right in the forehead. He immediately falls against a nearby wall and slumps to the floor, leaving behind a streak of blood on the wall. The shot had apparently spooked his partner, giving Becky enough time to fire a quick succession of shots that catch the man in his knees.

"I've got no idea who the hell you are but that's gotta be the most pathetic attempt anyone's ever made on my life," she levels her gun at his forehead, but pauses before she pulls this trigger, her eyebrow raises in interest. "Ah...there's more?"

In her doorway appears a blonde woman Becky is a hundred percent sure she would remember if she's ever seen her before. Their gazes lock and the woman's eyes immediately go wide. She glances to her left and then her right before she tilts her head back and groans irritably.

Becky's grin is probably a bit too smug for this particular situation, but she can't help it. "Those yours?" She gives a half nod to the dead idiot and the one left bleeding all over her floor.

"Hardly," the woman snorts and rolls her eyes before producing a gun from her jacket that the sims directly at Becky's forehead. "Some people just don't seem to get what 'I work alone' means."

Becky hums, seemingly unfazed by the the gun pointed in her direction. "I can imagine that would be an inconvenience. Those two sounded like a herd of damn elephants coming up the hall," Becky then nods to the man still groaning and bleeding from the knees. "And that one's a pussy."

Yawning greatly, Becky relaxes back into her chair. "So...I get an introduction or anything? Before you collect on whatever halfwit sent you to kill me?"

The woman snorts again. "You seem kinda comfortable with this. This sorta thing happen often."

Becky shrugs nonchalantly. "One time...once a week. You know how it is. You you're making something happen and some people just seem to have a problem with that. Kinda like whoever sent you," she nods again. "Tell me. You in with somebody or just a gun for hire?"

The woman raises an eyebrow in interest. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe. It could in the future. Just so I know who I need to go after for wasting both your time and mine," Becky casts another forlorn look at the whimpering man. "Definitely gun for hire. You don't seem the least bit concerned about those jackasses."

"The only jackass I'm supposed to be concerned with is the one content with running her mouth even though she has a gun to her head."

"Won't be the first, won't be the last," Becky shrugs nonchalantly as she stands up from her chair and crosses the room. She has her hands causally stuffed into her jacket pockets as she moves forward until her forehead is pressed flush against the barrel of the gun. Her smirk doesn't waver. If anything, it widens when she just barely catches the minuscule flicker of surprise across the woman's face.

"So...what's stopping you?" She implores smugly. "You don't carry yourself like a newbie, so I can only guess you've been doing this a while. How come you haven't pulled that trigger yet?"

The woman scoffs as it is indeed a very valid question. She doesn't lower her gun, however. Instead, it remains pressed right against Becky's forehead. "You know...when they told me you're a bit of a headache when it comes to that mouth of yours, I didn't believe them. Now I see they definitely weren't lying."

Becky raises her eyebrows in interest. "I'm kinda famous like that. But, if you don't mind me asking, who's 'they'?"

"Come on now. You're pretty big in this business. You of all people know that info comes at a cost."

"Ah yeah. 'Nothin' in this world is free' and all that shit. You got a price, Blondie?"

The woman's eyebrows raise. "Blondie?" She echos. "You do know this gun is loaded...right?"

Becky shrugs. "Won't be the first, won't be the last," she repeats.

A low groan is heard and their eyes snap towards the still bleeding man nearly long forgotten on the floor. Becky makes a face of disgust, but before she can say anything, the gun to her forehead shifts in his direction and is firing at an instant. Her eyebrows lift in slight surprise as she watches the explosion of red before the body slumps to the floor dead.

"I hate it when they whine like that," the woman nearly snarls before shifting her attention back to Becky. She carefully eyes her up and down before replacing her gun back on the inside of her jacket. "What're you offering?"

"Could be a one time price for whoever sent you here in the first place. Or..." Becky lulls her head back and forth before shrugging casually. "Could be a price that doesn't necessarily have an expiration date. If you're interested."

The women's eyes narrow considerably. "You must be some kind of an idiot. I show up at your doorstep ready to turn that all into a mosaic of your insides, and you want to hire me for what...? To be your lapdog? No thanks."

Becky clicks her tongue. "If I needed a lapdog I could go out and find one on the street. Nah. Something tells me you're getting pretty tired of these one and done jobs. They're not consistent. And pairing you up with those idiots? They damn sure don't pay enough for your skill type. What're you? Ex military? Army?"

The women's eyes widen, the first time she's fully let her surprise show. "Marines..." she corrects carefully. "What're you playing at, Lynch?"

"Nothing but an opportunity at better pay and a better lifestyle. People like you and me? We like to make things happen. I dunno. Something tells me we could do that," Becky tilts her head. "If you're interested."

The woman is silent for a long time with her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she lets out a laugh and rolls her eyes to the sky before shaking her head. "Right, and tell me this. One last thing. You were _supposed_ to die today. How can I trust you to trust me?"

Humming quietly, Becky mulls the words over. "In one way or another, one of us would've definitely died today, but we didn't and there's a reason for that. I _let_ you walk into my office just like you're letting me walk out. Guess you could say we already kinda trust each other."

They two stare each other down for a good moment before the woman relents, nodding with another low chuckle. "Just because I'm tired of these low rent assholes who can barely afford my fee, I'll hear you out," she scrunches her nose and for the first time gives the office a good once over. "This place's a dump, though."

"I'm in the process of renovating," Becky huffs before heading back to her desk where she leans against the edge. "You got a name? Seems kinda unfair you know who I am, but I'm stuck making something up. I mean, I can stick to Blondie if you want."

"Flair. Charlotte," she supplies her name with an eye roll before leveling Becky with a look and her voice dripping with the sarcasm to match. "It's a pleasure."

"Pleasure's all mine," Becky beams before turning her attention to the dead men on her floor. "We should probably do something about that."

Charlotte clicks her tongue before shrugging. "I dunno. I think they kinda spruce up the place. Adds a little something. A nice pop of color or whatever."

Becky barks out a laugh. She folds her arm and nods in agreement.

"You know what, Charlie? I think this might work."

******

* * *

Sasha finds herself flinching as the thunder hits for the nth time. It had been a half day for the gym and she had opted to stay behind alone and close some things up. She glances up mournfully at the outside as the rain continues to pound harshly against the windows. The pounding droplets, or _waves_ she should really say, leave unpleasant echoes in the back of her mind, and on several occasions, she finds herself having the mentally and almost physically will herself to look away.

In this moment, she finds herself cursing herself both for not looking at the weather before she left home and for opting to walk. It had been so nice out since she had left, and seeing as she hadn't really slept at all the night before, she felt like that's exactly what she needed at the time.

Arguably, she made the decision when she realized she hadn't much felt up for driving. The drive in wasn't at all a long one, but Sasha is so often prone to being a victim to the images that can flash behind her eyes at any given moment. The last thing she would want to do is make someone else a victim because of her own ineptitudes.

Sasha feels her phone buzz nearby the machine she's currently cleaning. She she stares at it for a moment, before reaching out to bring it closer to her face. For a moment, a small smile tugs at the very corner of her lips as she reads the message displayed on the screen.

_'Storms supposed to be getting pretty bad soon. We just made it in. You make it out okay?'_

It's from Carmella. Sasha really should've known who was on her phone the moment it lit up. As of late, Carmella has been hovering over her like something of a den mother, fussing over whether or not she's actually eating and getting enough rest. Most times, Sasha finds herself able to fib her way out of more investigative questions, but there are times where her armor cracks just a bit, allowing for a sliver of the broken women she's desperately trying to hide to shine through.

_'I'm still here. I think I might just wait it out. Get some more work done.'_

She feels like she's barely sent the response before she's getting another message. Her playfully rolls her eyes at the other woman's ability to text so fast.

_'Oh my god. You walked again didn't you? Did you want one of us to come get you? Seriously, it won't be a problem.'_

Sasha bites her lips and shakes her head before she remembers Carmella can't actually see her.

_'No, I'm okay with waiting it out. I don't wanna bother you or Bay with coming out in this.'_

Sasha's shoulders deflate as she thinks about her best friend and the terms they had parted on earlier in the afternoon. It had left Sasha feeling more than shaken and she had done the petulant thing at the time and stormed up to her office mid-argument and locked the door. In all their years of knowing each other, she and Bayley have definitely had their disagreements, but it had never been something as tense as that had been.

_"Sasha, what happened?"_

_Frowning, Sasha doesn't look up from where she's stacking together some paperwork. "What're you talking about? Nothing's happened."_

_"I mean," Bayley lets out an agitated huff. "I don't mean like that. Well, I do kind of, but mostly I mean with us. What's happened with us?"_

_Sasha stills and remains idle for a moment before scribbling her signature on the bottom of a page. "Nothing's happened to us, Bay."_

_Bayley's eyes widen and she watches as Sasha brushes past her without a second glance. "Okay, what?" She balks, completely taken off guard how Sasha hadn't even so much as acknowledged her. "Sasha, this isn't like you. I mean, since you've been back, which is a while now, you haven't been the same. We used to see each other literally every day, and now it's like, even at work you're actively avoiding me."_

_Sasha echoes the agitated sigh and tilts her head back. "Bayley, it's nothing personal. Really. I've just got some things I need to work out in my head."_

_"Yeah? Well once upon a time you used to tell me what those things are! I mean, Jesus Christ, you talk to Carmella more than you talk to me! All I can do is sit back and watch while you move around like some sort of fucking ghost or something! It's like I don't even know who you are anymore!"_

_"Well maybe you're not supposed to!"_

_When Sasha eventually snaps, it leaves an lasting echo that garners the attention of the few stragglers left idling behind, but she doesn't care. Instead, she rounds on Bayley and levels her with a stare so cold the other woman feels the chill travel down to the base of her neck. Baring her teeth, Sasha's voice is tense and curt._

_"Maybe you're not supposed to fucking know, Bayley. Has that ever crossed your mind? Maybe that for a **second** , for **once** , I don't want you fucking around in my business!?"_

_"Sasha…" Bayley blinks, her eyes wide in surprise. "I'm just trying to help—"_

_"Well I don't **want** your fucking help!"_

_"Sasha—"_

She hadn't given Bayley the chance to follow up. Instead she had stormed up to her office and slammed the door. She has no idea how long it was that she spent pacing, dragging her shaking hands through her hair while she worked to calm her breathing. She hadn't even opened the door against the soft knocks and quiet calls of her name from the other side. That was where she had opted to stay until she was left alone for good.

That had been the last time they had interacted for the day and Sasha felt horrible. She knows that Bayley is only coming to her with good intentions and the biggest heart on the planet. For that, Sasha can't help but feel incredibly guilty for pushing her away, but how can she not? What is there to explain to where it would make sense and not subsequently shake and ruin the last little bits of peace she might have fooled herself into thinking she has left? For Sasha, opening up just isn't worth the risk…for anybody.

"Damn it…." Sasha sighs tiredly, setting her phone down as she lets her head drop into her hand. Her eyes lift tired towards the windows and the storm hasn't even let up just a fraction.

What unsettles her is how dark it's become outside, even though it's still in the middle of the day. She's sure if she were damned to be stuck outside, she's positive she wouldn't be able to see an inch in front of her face. Her mind flashes her back to moments of immense darkness, where the only thing she had been permitted to hear was the harshness The water in itself is blinding, and even from her haven on the inside, she feels the uneasy harshness travel down her spine.

It was almost autotrophic, the way her legs had permitted to carry her closer to the window. Even with the lighting in the backdrop of her current haven, she can't see a damn thing, save for the torrential downpour viciously attacking the earth. Out of the very corner of her eye, she _thinks_ she can see the make up of where one of the streetlights _should_ be, but she can't be a hundred percent sure.

Sasha is just barely aware of her own hand trembling as she lifts it to press against the glass. The glass is cold under her fingertips, and she can feel the faint rumble that is the vibration of the storm continuing to roll in from the distance. Her eyes don't shift, and she doesn't blink as they remain locked on the darkness. It's almost like staring out into an inky black pool, _knowing_ something's there, but you can't quite see it.

Swallowing thickly, the rest of the world hallows out to where she can only hear the pounding of her own heart in her ears. The darkness appears to fade in around the edges of her vision, and she can only vaguely identify that her breathing has picked up. Her chest begins to feel heavy and it becomes incredibly difficult to breath as each intake of air feels like it squeezes her insides.

On the outside, there's a flash of lightning and for a split second, Sasha swears she she's the outline of a figure at the far distance of the parking lot. Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth falls open just a fraction. Her eyes begin to strain as she stares as hard as she possibly can for any indication of movement on the outside.

"No…no…" her voice is low and hoarse as she slowly shakes her head back and forth. "You're not real…"

Her eyes momentarily shift to her right towards the door before launching back to the window. "You're not real!"

There's another flash of lighting, only Sasha only catches a glimpse of the empty parking lot. She presses presses both hands against the glass and moves impossibly closer. "No, no, no…"

"You're not real, you're not real…"

There's a flash. A rumble. That same shadow in the parking lot.

"You're not real!"

She's on the boat. She's in the basement. She's hiding under her own bed in her own house. She's everywhere she doesn't want to be.

"You're not real!"

"Sasha!"

The scream that is ripped from her throat as hands come to rest at her shoulders vertebrates around the empty space. She instantly moves to fight, but she finds herself self gently restrained. On instinct, she squeezes her eyes shut as her rasps for air become more frequent.

"Hey, it's okay. It's me."

Swallowing thickly, Sasha chances the moment to open her eyes to find Charlotte looking down at her with concern. Her hair and her face is damp, no doubt from where she had sprinted through the onslaught happening on the outside. Her grip is gentle, but firm as she holds on to Sasha's arms.

Sasha blinks owlishly and when she speaks, her voice is almost childlike.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah. Do me a favor and hang tight over there for me?"

It almost takes Sasha a moment to process what's been asked before she nods hesitantly and shuffles off behind the front desk. She tightly wraps her arms around herself and she watches as Charlotte moves around the front of the gym. Sasha furrows her eyebrows and shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"What're you looking for?"

Charlotte's eyes narrow as she peers towards the outside. Her lips narrow into a thin line and she subtly reaches towards the heaviness in her pocket. Huffing, she spins away from the door and heads off into the open area of the gym. Her eyes flit back and forth before she sighs quietly and her shoulders relax. She moves back to towards the front of the gym and braces her hands against the counter.

"It's just you here?" She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

Sasha shrugs. "Yeah. Everyone left about an hour or so ago. How'd you…how'd you get in?"

"The back. I've been calling and got kinda worried when you didn't answer."

Sasha raises her eyebrows before she moves back to the machine where she had left her phone. She thumbs through her phone to find her screen littered with missed calls and texts all spanning a few minutes apart. "Sorry…I was…guess I was out of it, I guess."

Charlotte eyes Sasha curiously. "When I came in you were yelling…almost like you saw something out there."

"I didn't see anything."

"Sasha—"

"I didn't!"

Charlotte snaps her mouth shut and lets her shoulders slump once again. "I…okay," she sighs and leans against the front desk counter. "What're you still doing here if everyone left an hour ago?"

Sasha raises an eyebrow in challenge. "There are some things that needed to be finished up here and I didn't want to do it in the morning so," she tries to shrug casually. "I thought I'd stay."

Charlotte would probably buy it if she was born the day before and she didn't see the way Sasha was completely frozen stiff in the window when she had first walked in. She pushes herself off the counter and carefully closes the distance between the two of them. She notices how Sasha is pretty much doing every possible thing she can to look anywhere, but at her. It's when there's another faint rumble in the distance, does Sasha tense just a fraction and Charlotte knows.

"Sash…" she keeps her voice gentle but even. "What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything," Sasha tries her best to sound convincing as she continues to avoid Charlotte's eyes.

"I don't mean out there…what did you see?"

Sasha closes her eyes and inhales shakily. The feeling is akin to trying to breath when all of your airways have been restricted. Even with her eyes closed, she feels as if the room has completely shrunk down to the size of a box, and she's damned to live the rest of her life trapped inside.

"I try so hard to make it normal. To _be_ normal. I try to get up everyday and go about my life like nothing ever happened and I don't have to pretend to try and forget everything that I ever saw. I try to be _me_ again, but I—I can't."

Tears gather behind her closed eyelids and leak from her eyes. A pair of droplets leave a trail behind on her cheeks and her lips are trembling as she continues to speak.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see her, Charlie. I see _her_ and I so badly wish I didn't because I want to go back to the time before all that. All I see is _her_."

With her eyebrows knit together in worry, Charlotte carefully pulls the other woman into her arms. She can feel the way Sasha's tremors have transferred to the entirety of her body. She feels her jacket pull must a bit as Sasha grasps onto the material tightly.

"She's not here anymore, Sash. She can't…she can't do anything to you. She's just a ghost and I promise, I _promise_ you'll beat her."

Sasha shakes her head frantically as she grips the fabric of Charlotte's jacket so tight that she nearly tears right through it. Her tears are flowing more freely and her heart rate begins to pick up once again, despite holding on to the one err of stability she's had as of recent.

"The thing is I…I wish I was talking about her. About Asuka…but I'm not."

She heaves as her body finally succumbs to itself and a sob similar to a cry is pulled from her lips.

"I'm not! And that's…that's why I'm not okay. That's why…"

She heaves again.

"That's why I'm not sure if I _can_ be."

* * *

Becky leaves behind a river of water as she strides into her apartment. The door slams behind her so hard, it's a wonder fractures weren't left behind on the wall. Her fists are clenched so tight, her own nails are responsible for the red and nearly bleeding crescents on the insides of her palms. That's nothing, however, compared to the bloodied mess of her knuckles courtesy of a rather lengthy beating to her steering wheel.

Her hair is soaked and plastered to her face. Strands of red fall into her eyes, mimicking a sick twist of irony in relation to a far outdated saying. She doesn't even bother to move the wet curtain from her face. Instead, she storms over to her usual spot on the bar where she grabs a glass and nearly shatters a bottle as it almost slips from her grasp.

"N-no," she her tongue feels waited while mutters to herself through clenched teeth, forcing a bitter laugh out of herself as she cocks her head to the side. "Sh-she.. w…wouldn't d-do that. You _wouldn't_."

She digs into her pocket in haste and finds the screen blank, no indicators of any kind of response to her calls that left unanswered. Though, she knew they wouldn't be. Not after…not after what she saw .

"Y-y….you wou-wou…" She shouts before hurling the liquor bottle against the wall where it explodes on impact. "Fuck!"

Storming away from her mess, Becky finds herself pacing back and forth in front of her window. Her hands are gripping her her tightly as her movements become erratic by the second. Her muttering continues and she's frantically shaking her head as her tongue suddenly feels like it's made of cement.

Facing her window, it's too dark on the outside. Instead, she can only see what is supposed to be her own reflection from the light shining from her apartment. Instead, she finds a sickening image. Eyes that are too wide. A face that is too innocent— _no_. A face that is too _weak_. Too _stupid_. Too much a—

—' _piece of shit kid!'_

A scrawny nobody hiding behind a stringy mess of dark amber hair and a patterned camouflage of bruises.

"L-Leave! Me!" Becky shakes her head and frantically claws at her eyes, but when she stops, the image hasn't gone away. It only remains stationary and unmoving, staring back at her as if it had just seen a ghost.

"Le-le…fuck!"

"….eave me! Lo-lo….l-leave me alone!"

Everything happens so fast. One moment she is shouting at the ghost, the next moment she's grabbing one of her living chairs and hurling it towards the window. The window shatters instantly, sending glass showering down in a grand parade of crystal. The harsh winds hurl a torrent of water towards the inside, creating the beginnings of a flood in the room.

Becky doesn't care.

Her shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath she takes as her eyes don't leave the pile of glass. Glass crunches underneaths her boot as she nears closer, her gaze not wavering as she comes to stand nearly atop the pile. When she looks up again, the face is gone. Only the darkness is left, as she exposes herself and her home to the elements of the outside.

As her breathing begins to slow, her gaze once again moves to the pile at her feet. The wind is cold and the rain that comes along with it cuts like a blade.

Becky doesn't care.

Her eyes sting and despite the cold of the rain, there's a hot wetness at her cheeks. She doesn't even bother to reach up and wipe it away. Instead, she sits. Right there amidst the pile of broken glass.

_"They broke me down and put me back together. They taught me how to be ruthless and…and feared."_

She's never been more broken, scared, and alone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes...lucky 13....

When she is pulled into the land of the living for the first time, she is immediately met with the wonderful aroma of food that wafts across her nose. On instinct, her stomach grumbles in want and she's well aware that she has no hope or chance of falling asleep once again. Not that she would want to after waking up to such a smell as glorious as that.

It takes her a few blinks for everything to work it's way into a clear existence, but soon she finds herself staring at the ceiling. She's warm and comfortable and would love to do nothing more than spend the rest of the full day in plush comfortable sheets and blankets, but once she's awake, she's always had the hardest of times falling back asleep. It's like a blessing and a curse all the same. A blessing because it usually means she can get up and start her day early, doing whatever it is she needs to do. Yet, a curse in the sense meaning that she hardly ever knows the luxury of sleeping in.

Stretching her arms above her head, Sasha arches her back in a stretch that serves to wake up the rest of her limbs. She sits up and rubs the rest of the sleep away from her eyes, yawning greatly as she does so. After a few moments of waking herself up, she takes a glance around the room and immediately her heart sinks to the very pits of her stomach.

It's not her bedroom where she last fell asleep at night.

Flopping onto her back, Sasha buries the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, pressing down hard as she does so. "Why are you doing this to me..." she mumbles lowly, shaking her head as she pulls her hands away only to find herself in the same bed and the same room she has been when she woke up. She inhales and releases a shaky breath, repeating the action once more only to find herself with the same result.

"Why are you doing this to me!?"

She reaches out and tangles her fingers in sheets, her heart only sinking once more as they feel cool and soft to the touch. Looking back to the ceiling, she closes her eyes once last time and counts to ten before opening three. Nothing has changed.

"Baby?"

_Please no._

Swallowing thickly, Sasha's eyes dart towards the source of noise, and her heart skips a beat when she finds a familiar look of concern from the doorway. The pain that soon follows is almost unbearable to the point where she's nearly clutching her chest in anguish.

"What's wrong? I thought I heard you yelling."

"Please go away..." Sasha's voice is quiet as she tries to look anywhere but at the woman lingering idle in the doorway.

Becky frowns slightly and does a quick once over of the room before her eyes land back I. Sasha who looks to be trying to make herself appear as small as possible. "Is everything alright?" She asks carefully as she fully enters the room. She cautiously placed a knee in the bed, hesitating just slightly as Sasha scoots away.

"Please," Sasha shakes her head as she squeezes her eyes shut. "Please stop doing this. I don't know what you want..."

"I don't want anything but to make sure you're alright," Becky reaches a hand out and as soon as her fingers brush Sasha's shoulder, the other woman is immediately flinching away with a quiet yelp. "Baby, what's going on?"

The touch has felt as real as it possibly could and it's everything Sasha hates about moments like this. Moments where she's once again a victim of all the tricks and all the lies. Where everything appears to be fine until it's not and she finds herself dragged back into the recent hell she's been damned to live in.

"Why?" Sasha asks, her voice cracking as she doesn't break eye contact with Becky for the first time. Oh how badly she wants to reach out and feel her, but she can't even begin to bring herself to do so. She blinks only once and she's immediately feeling wetness pool in her eyes. "Why are you still doing this to me? Why are you here?"

Becky only continues to drown as she puts more of her weight on the bed. "I'm...not sure what you mean by that." She slowly shakes her head. "You stayed the night, remember? We were watching movies on the couch and I didn't want you driving home so late. You fell asleep not too long after that."

This time it's Sasha who mirrors the head shake. "No I didn't. I didn't stay here and I didn't stay with you." Her voice cracks again. "You're not real."

"Sash..." Becky keeps her voice soft as she reaches out for Sasha's hand. When she's only given the same uneasy look as before, she sighs quietly. "Please? Trust me?"

Sasha doesn't know what possesses her to do so but she offers her hand. Immediately, her heart leaps as she finds her own hand enveloped in the warm but calloused hold of another. She soon finds her own hand placed over Becky's heart, where it remains for her to feel the rhythmic thumps as it beats.

"See?" Becky takes Sasha's hand once again before placing a gentle kiss on the back of her fingers. "I'm not going anywhere, Sash."

Sasha closes her eyes as she silently begs for it all to end. "Why did you lie to me?"

Becky appears to swallow thickly as her eye fall downcast. "I didn't want to. I thought I was protecting you." She reaches a hand out and cups Sasha's face, gently stroking her cheek with her thumb. "I love you so much and all I ever wanted to do was keep you safe."

The feeling of Becky's thumb brushing her cheek leaves behind warm tingles in her skin. She reaches a hand up and with a shaky grasp, she gently closes it around Becky's wrist. "Why are you doing this?" She whispers once more.

"I love you so much, Sash. I just wanna make it right. All of this? It doesn't mean anything to me anymore. It didn't the moment I laid eyes on you."

The bed shifts and soon Becky is laying next to her, gently ushering Sasha closer in her embrace. Sasha closes her eyes as her tears begin to leak out once more. "Please don't say that."

"It's true. Can you look at me?" A pause. "Baby can you look at me, please?"

Sasha opens her eyes to find Becky halfway hovering over her. Behind her tears, Becky looks like a water color mosaic that only continues to blur in and out by the second. Her already pounding heart goes into overdrive when Becky leans down and places a gentle kiss against her lips. The kiss is warm and gentle, almost as if Becky is giving her the option to take charge.

Breaking the kiss, Becky leans her forehead against Sasha's. "We'll go away together..."

"Becky..."

"I'll leave everything behind for you. We'll leave all of this. I'll ask you to marry me and we'll start over. Just the two of us."

Sasha slowly shakes her head. "Please don't. Please don't make promises to me that you can't keep."

"I'll keep this one." Becky's voice sounds so sure as she nods and begins to pepper soft kisses against Sasha's lips. "I promise the only thing I want is you."

Sasha relaxes and allows herself to be enveloped in the next kiss that's much firmer and deeper than the last. Becky captures her lips with such an intensity that Sasha has no choice but arch into it. Her arms close around Becky's shoulder as she finds herself pulled into the long sought familiar hold.

As Becky's weight shifts on top of her, the two break away in need for air. Sasha's hands are still shaking as she reaches up to cup Becky's face. Becky looks down at her as if she's the most important thing in the world, and that look alone has Sasha uttering the words.

"I love you."

* * *

It doesn't surprise her that she's alone in her own bedroom the next time her eyes open. If anything, she wants to laugh aloud bitterly because she knew. She fucking _knew_ the minute she "awoke" the first time that it was all just some trick being played. Just one of many past and one of many more to come.

What does throw her off, however, is the familiar smell of food. It's oddly similar to the food from her dream and that alone is enough to leave her heart jumping just a bit as she carefully peels back her covers and crawls out of bed.

Pausing by her bedroom door, she listens closely for anything out of the ordinary. She frowns immediately when she hears rummaging around her kitchen, and she immediately goes for the item secured in her nightstand draw. In her mind, she quickly goes over everything she had been previously taught and she's gripping the gun tightly in both hands as she quietly creeps out of her room.

As she nears the kitchen, she passes the living room to find the television turned on and she swears she can hear humming coming from somewhere. Creeping forward, she pokes her head into the entrance of her kitchen, preparing to use the gun should she have to.

Thankfully, she doesn't and she's immediately lowering the gun as she spots familiar face at her stove.

"Mella, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm—" Carmella turns around from the stove and when she spots Sasha in the doorway, her eyes immediately go wide and she screams.

"Jesus Christ! Sasha what the fuck!?"

Sasha sighs quietly and holds up a hand. "It's alright."

"Alright!? What the fuck about that— _that_ is 'alright!?" Carmella screeches, flailing a hand as she does so. Her eyes impossibly wider and she places a hand over her chest. "Were you gonna fucking _shoot me!?_ "

"Well I didn't know who was in here!"

"Why do you even have a fucking gun!?"

"Because I—" Sasha interrupts herself because she's completely unsure of how to answer that. Her shoulders drop and she sighs heavily. "Look, I'm gonna go put this away and when I come back you can tell me what the hell you're doing here."

Retreating to her room, Sasha returns the gun to the safety spot in her nightstand. She then proceeds to her bathroom where she splashes her face with water and tries not to jump when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. If there were such a thing as death personified, she would swear that she's looking at it.

When she returns to her kitchen, she finds Carmella still slumped against one of the counters, only now she appears to be halfway downing a glass of wine in large gulps. "Shit Mella, I'm sorry...but what are you doing here?"

"I was making you breakfast!" Carmella exclaims, still panting as she continues to come down from her most recent freight. "Was that thing loaded!?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter—of course it matters! You could've shot me—"

"I wasn't gonna shoot you!" Sasha shouts, her voice leaving a lasting echo in the room. "I wasn't gonna shoot you, but I didn't know who was in here and I just...you can never be too careful." She frowns slightly as she moves further into the kitchen. "Now...why are you in my kitchen cooking? Something wrong with your stove at home?"

Finishing her wine, Carmella contemplates pouring a second glass as she rolls her eyes. "I'm here because when I saw you yesterday you looked like you hadn't eaten in days," she takes the plate she was in the middle of making and places it on the island in front of Sasha who has just taken a seat. "You also look like you haven't slept."

It's true. She hadn't really slept much if she's being completely honest. She'd actually spent most of the night awake curled into the opposite corner of her sofa while she and Charlotte trekked through a sci-fi movie marathon. Sasha isn't exactly a fan of the whole science fiction thing, but seeing as she was the one who asked Charlotte to stay in the first place because she didn't want to be alone, Sasha had let her pick the movies.

Sasha's stomach grumbles as she looks down at the plate set before her. Eggs, bacon, and a golden waffle. "You know...the key you have to my place is supposed to be for emergencies only." She murmurs, despite picking up a fork and digging in immediately.

Carmella grins proudly. "Well like I said, you looked like you haven't eaten, and if that isn't an indication of an emergency, I don't know what is."

"Well...thanks..." Sasha mumbles around a mouth full of food. She continues to eat in silence and when she looks up again, she finds Carmella watching her. "What?"

"Nothing." Carmella quips before she begins moving around the kitchen to tidy up. "Just wondering when you're gonna be ready, I guess."

Sasha closes her eyes and sighs "Mella don't..." she groans quietly as she already knows where this is headed. "I don't wanna do this this morning."

Carmella only hums. "This morning, this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow. It doesn't matter, does it? You don't wanna do it at all."

Sasha immediately frowns. "Okay. What happened to me talking on my own terms?"

"Yeah well, that was before we had to stand back and watch you kill yourself over whatever the fuck. You look terrible Sasha."

"Gee thanks."

"I'm serious." Carmella folds her arms. "And despite what you may think, holding it in is only going to make it worse. We're worried, Sash. And yes. I do mean 'we'."

Sasha's shoulders drop immediately. "How is she?"

Carmella stills her movements at the sink before she's shaking her head. "She's hurt. Because she has to sit and watch a ghost shell of her best friend move about and there's not a damn thing she can do about it. Because she only wants to help and said best friend is not only keeping her at arms length, but is also totally shoving her away."

Sasha worries her bottom lip as she recalls the last time she spoke to her best friend. Well, she's not really sure she can call it speaking. It was probably more of the yelling variety if she's being honest, and truth be told, she also hasn't really apologized for it.

"I didn't mean for it to end up like that..." she mumbles, no haphazardly moving her food around her plate.

"Well, it did..." Carmella looks over from the sink. "You really hurt her, Sasha. And I don't say that to intentionally make you feel bad. I say it say that she doesn't know what else to do anymore. She told me she feels like she's lost you and from that...she really doesn't know what to do, Sash. I keep trying to tell her you'll come to her when you're ready, but it's really starting to feel like I'm lying to her."

Sasha swallows thickly and drops her head into her hands. "You know the last thing I wanna do is hurt Bayley, right?" Whe she receives only silence in response, she looks up to find Carmella only staring back at her. "Mella, c'mon."

Carmella shakes her head again. "I thought I did Sasha, I really did...but I don't know anymore and I don't think you do either. Because let's be honest, you and I both know that this is about more than just a bad breakup. A bad breakup doesn't have you gone for half the year only to come back looking like a complete stranger. A bad breakup doesn't have you walking around your own house with a fucking _gun_. Maybe Bayley halfway buys into that, but I don't. Whatever happened to you...whatever _she did_ to you, you're right, that's your story to tell. But don't sit there and act like there's nothing going on."

Sasha has to tighten her jaw for fear of it visibly trembling. She glances down at her hands where she clenched and unclenches her fists several times so as to remind herself that she's awake. Internally, she begins to focus on her own breathing as she feels her fingers just start to tingle.

"Carmella, you don't understand," she mumbles. "You don't understand and you can't. I know that just sounds empty, but you seriously _can't_ , because..." her voice gets caught in her throat. "Because I really don't know what would happen if you did. One day maybe I'll be at a place where I can tell you, but for now, you'll just have to trust me."

"Oh I trust you..." Carmella wraps her arms around herself as her voice goes soft. "I'm just not so sure if I'm the one who needs convincing of that."

Sasha hangs her head low. "I'll text her when I can..."

"Text her..." Carmella snorts quietly, the echoed words sounding almost bitter before she sighs openly. "Well...if that's the best you're willing to give her, then I guess I'll just have to accept that. Enjoy your breakfast, Sash."

Sasha is left alone in her kitchen as she listens to the other woman's footsteps retreat. When she hears the door open and close behind her, she drops her head into her hands once again. This time, her tears flow with ease as she is consumed by the whirlwind of confusion and the emotional storm happening in her head.

* * *

"Jesus, Becks, seriously?"

"What, you don't like it?"

Charlotte raises her eyebrows as she looks around the dingy space. "I'm sure it has a certain, aheh, charm to it for some people but" she makes a face as she peers at what appears to be an old boxing ring that's missing both the ring posts and the ropes. "I'm not sure I can say it exactly appeals to my taste."

Becky chuckles quietly as she kicks an old pipe with her boot. "Well then, it's a good thing we've got money then, ain't it?"

"Guess you could say that...what's this place for anyway? Now I've known you to make some questionable buys, but this place? Even I'm struggling to figure out where the hell you're going with this."

"You ever see that one movie? With what's his name...Brad Pitt?"

"Brad Pitt?" Charlotte echoes in confusion before her eyebrows shoot up. "Are you talking about fight club!?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Becky holds her arms out and does a quick once around of the space. "What do you think?"

Charlotte blinks owlishly as she stares at the woman on the other side of the room. "I think you've lost it." She deadpans.

Becky's arms fall to her sides and she rolls her eyes. "Well it's a good thing I don't pay you to think..." she mutters to herself, kicking the pipe out of the way as she moves to continue her inspection.

The corners of Charlotte's lips tug downward as she picks up on the shift in Becky's tone. She sighs quietly to herself and shoves her hands in her pockets as she proceeds to follow closely behind. "Look Becks, I'm not saying it's a bad idea. I guess I'm just wondering where it's coming from?"

"So you're questioning me," Becky snorts.

"I guess? Maybe because you didn't exactly bring me into the loop here before you bought this place?"

"I didn't know I needed your permission to make a buy with _my_ fuckin' money."

"Okay look," Charlotte holds up her hands as a sign of peace.

From where she stands, Becky has been living life with her nerves incredibly on edge and it annoys Charlotte to no end that she can't even tell if her best friend has been drinking or not. The blackouts aren't nearly as frequent as they have been, but every now and then Charlotte swears she catches a feint whiff of _something_ with a label that she can't quite put a name to.

"I'm not questioning you. I'm _asking_ you where your head is at. I mean, the club is doing the best it ever has, so is the restaurant. We're moving cache like you wouldn't believe. So what's a dingy little fight club gonna do for you?"

"Maybe it's because I just need something different!?" Becky shouts, her voice bouncing off the empty walls. "Fuck Charlie, I just wanna change something up, alright? Am I allowed to do that?" She scoffs and turns away. "I don't question you when you're busy running off doing god knows what." She turns back and looks Charlotte dead in the eye. "But maybe I should?"

Once again, Charlotte finds herself blinking owlishly, only this time it's at the sudden coldness in Becky's voice. "Uh, what?"

"You heard me. Where've you been, Charlie?"

"I've literally been next to you all day. Remember we went and shook down that whimpy little ginger who talks too much? You know, the one who thinks the world's out to get him even though he's the one who borrowed money from you in the first place?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I seriously don't know what you're talking about."

Before Becky can respond, the two of them are interrupted by a feint buzz. For a moment, it is the only thing that fills the silent between the two of them and if Becky were someone else, she would've absolutely missed the minor tick in Charlotte's expression the moment it happened. But she doesn't. She sees it clear as day and it has her quirking an eyebrow as her gaze darts to Charlotte's pocket.

"You gonna get that?"

"It can wait," Charlotte responds with a slight head shake. Her eyes narrow just slightly at the way Becky is watching her. "If there's something you wanna ask me, just ask."

Becky smirks but it doesn't reach her eyes and it's anything but humorous. "I already did. You just didn't answer me." Her eyes dart to Charlotte's pocket when the buzzing starts up once again. "You should get that."

Becky casually stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets as she returns to inspecting her new real estate. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the other woman checking her phone and she takes note of how her demeanor changes immediately. As she watches Charlotte take the call and step out, her jaw only tightens while her facial expression darkens.

* * *

Sasha drags a hand through her hair as she moves to open her front door in response to the frantic knocking. She does a quick peek outside before she undoes the locks and swings the door open only to nearly be knocked over by the woman rushing in.

"You're seriously gonna get me killed one day, you know that?" Charlotte huffs as she does a quick once over of Sasha's living room. When nothing seems out of the ordinary, she frowns and turns back to the other woman who is still waiting by the door. "Well?"

Sasha laughs quietly and closes the door. "This way," she says, beckoning Charlotte to follow her as she moves back into the kitchen. Over by the counter is a chair that she had moved there not too long ago, and she points up at the cabinets above it. "There's a pan up there I need, and it's too far back."

Charlotte's eyes go wide. "Too far back!?" She turns and looks at Sasha in disbelief. "You said it was an emergency!"

"It is! It's my wok and I wanted to make fried rice! Have you ever made fried rice without a wok!?"

"I...oh my god," Charlotte grunts as she kicks the chair to the side and reaches up into the cabinet with ease. She stares at the designated pan as if the object in itself is the source of the madness. Which, technically it is. "How did it even get up there in the first place!?"

Sasha shrugs almost too casually as she takes the wok and sets it on the stove. "I think Bayley must've put it there the last time she helped me rearrange my kitchen."

Charlotte grips her hair tightly and exhales. "Sasha, seriously? You called me over here under the guise of an emergency to help you get a fucking _pan_ from the—don't you have a latter!?"

"I only have step stools and none of them were tall enough." Sasha laughs again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it. But seriously, you're like the only tall person I know."

"What about Bayley!? I'm sure she would've come over and—"

"We aren't speaking."

"Oh..." Charlotte trails off before tilting her head. "Still?"

Sasha shakes her head before shrugging. "She and Carmella want to know what happened. Why I'm like this, and I'm just not..." she lets out an aggravated huff. "What am I supposed to tell them? _How_ am I supposed to tell them!? That I almost died!? That _you_ pretty much _did die!?_ That Bec—" she cuts herself off before she can finish. "They think they want to know, but for fucks sake I'm trying to fucking _forget_ , and I can't do that with people begging me to talk about it!"

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't sound like much and it won't, especially coming from me, but I really am sorry. I know how hard it was for you to talk about it, even with me and I'm glad you did but...I can't imagine what it's like not being able to tell them."

"God, even if I could just fashion some sort of believable lie so I don't have to even consider it!" Sasha laughs bitterly and shakes her head. "And yet...here I am. Trapped in my own personal hell day in and day out and no matter what I do, I'm only making things worse."

Charlotte watches as the other woman's resolved is threatened by the second. "Sasha..." she sighs. "What's the real reason you called me over?"

Sasha tightens her jaw and doesn't look up. "I didn't wanna be alone again, but I didn't know how to...I wasn't sure if..."

"You know you can just ask right?" Charlotte raises an eyebrow. "I told you from the beginning that I'm gonna help in anyway I can, but Christ, don't scare me like that, alright? Just say you can't reach the damn pot."

"It's a wok."

"Whatever it is!"

"Noted," Sasha laughs softly and nods. "Since you're here. Do you maybe wanna stay for dinner? I prepped more rice than I needed to I think, so there will be plenty. It shouldn't take long to put together."

Charlotte grimaces and rubs at the back of her neck. "Ah...I was actually working when you called."

Sasha's gaze drops just slightly. "Oh, I see."

"But...I'm up for another movie marathon? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Great. But I get to pick this time. I'm not dealing with monster slug lord aliens or whatever the fuck you had us watching last time."

"Excuse you, that is cinematic genius."

"It's cinematic garbage."

The two share a laugh as they leave Sasha's kitchen and move through the living room towards the door. Sasha's hands are clasped together tightly as she worries her bottom lip. As Charlotte gets to the door first, she opens her and closes her mouth a few times as she tries to work out her words.

"Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

Charlotte isn't granted much time to react as she's pulled into a surprisingly strong hold. It's a grip that is much stronger than she would've ever considered, especially given the other woman's smaller stature and as arms find their way to her shoulders, her eyes widen dramatically as she suddenly feels a pair of soft lips pressed against her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes...i always tend to pull some shit on lucky number 13 don't eye aheheh. 
> 
> Lemme know your thougths!


	14. Chapter 14

With a knee pressed into the cushions and a hand braced against the back of the couch, Charlotte feels like she's drowning. Truth be told, she doesn't even much remember what happened in the duration it took them to get from the door to the couch. All she knows is that they're there and despite the blaring alarm bells going off in her mind, she can't seem to get her own limbs to respond to her own pleas to put a stop to this.

Sasha's hands are everywhere and next to impossible to keep up with. They're in her hair, at her cheeks, tugging at her clothing, and it's all way too much happening way too fast. The mental war raging inside her directly contradicts the initial response of her own lips as they moved against Sasha's.

But it's the way Sasha is kissing her that inches her back into the reality of the situation. The kiss is frantic and almost desperate. Even in her haze, Charlotte can feel the other woman's hands as they tremble while grasping and tugging at any part of her that's reachable. It's uncoordinated, it's desperate and it's wrong.

And Charlotte knows it.

"I need you."

Frowning, Charlotte is yanked into realization at the words husked against her lips just as Sasha has inched a hand beneath her shirt, her nails grazing lightly at the skin of her abdomen. She hums in displeasure, her fingers digging deeply into the back of the couch as she breaks the kiss. "No." She turns and looks away, shaking her head when Sasha's hands find her face once again. "Sasha, no."

"What's wrong?" Sasha's voice is full of worry as her chest rises and falls as she takes in the air she had been deprived of only moments ago. Her brow only furrows in worry as Charlotte pushes away from her and retreats to standing in the very center of the room. Sasha's worry only begins to spike when the other woman doesn't even look at her. "Charlie...?"

"No." Charlotte has the back of her hand pressed to her mouth as she engages into a staring war with the floor. Her frown is deep as she remains stock still, only occasionally shaking her head as she appears to be having a whole one sided conversation in her mind.

With her breathing having somewhat calmed. Sasha swallows thickly and sits up a little straighter on the sofa. "Why...why did you stop?" She carefully asks, her voice small and full of worry almost as if she knows she asked a question she isn't sure she wants the answer to.

Charlotte's jaw only tenses. "Sasha, that's wrong and we know that's wrong." She sighs heavily before dragging a hand through her hair. "There's nothing between us, Sash, and we both know it."

"But what if I want there to be?" Sasha's throat bobs as her own words sound like they're coming from that of a stranger. A stranger who's lost and struggling to find her way to the surface. She pushes off the couch and stands, only to find that even her legs are a bit wobbly as she moves to minimize the distance between the two of them. As she searches Charlotte for any sort of response, her arms eventually come to fall at her sides. "You don't want me..." whether that had been meant to come out as a question or a statement, even she is unsure.

"It's a lot more complicated than that, and I think you know that too..." Charlotte responds carefully.

Sasha bites down hard on her bottom lip, and as she feels her face beginning to warm beneath her skin, she opts to wrap her arms around herself and look away. Though her breathing has returned to normal, she finds her heart beating wildly and the pounding is almost painful.

"Sasha I..." Charlotte takes a deep breath and sends up a silent prayer. "Sasha...when's the last time you dreamed about her?" She knows she doesn't need to get much more specific than that with the way Sasha's eyes immediately flash in alarm, and while she knows she's treading into dark waters, a part of her feels like she doesn't have much of a choice. "Sasha—"

"You're the one that's been here.." Sasha responds with instead. "You've been here and you care about me and you..." her voice cracks as she takes a shaky deep breath to continue. "You saved my life."

Charlotte slowly shakes her head. "I didn't save your life, Sasha. She did. She turned this entire city upside down to find you and she fought tooth and nail for you because she's the one that loves you. _She_ saved your life, and I think this whole time you've known that. It's just...it's scary, and I get that but Sasha, there's a difference between knowing it and believing it."

With her arms still wrapped around herself, Sasha's trembling only continues as Charlotte's words filter through and settle into her mind. They settle over her like a cold dark cloth that leaves her shut out from the rest of the world, and the only thing she's left alone with is her own existence and the truth.

"It happens every night..." Sasha eventually whispers, keeping her gaze level with the floor as tears begin to pool beneath her eyes. "Some nights I see her as who she is...and then some nights I see her as who she wanted me to see." She takes a shaky breath. "The last ones are the hardest. I've gotten pretty good at being able to tell, but that doesn't make them any easier. Those are the ones where even if I know, there's still a part of me that wants to believe it's real."

This time, Sasha slowly retreats back to the couch where she sits on the very edge and drops her head into her hands. "When I came back I thought I was strong enough. I convinced myself I was, but every night I close my eyes. It's like I'm losing a fight I didn't even consent to." Her voice cracks again and she sniffles as her tears begin to freely roll down her cheeks. "Charlie I-I don't wanna fight anymore."

Charlotte crosses the room and kneels in front of the couch. She reaches out and gently takes the other woman's face in her hands, wiping away tears with her thumbs as they continue to fall. "Do you trust me?"

Sasha sniffs and then frowns at the question. "What?"

"Just...do you trust me?" There's a pause, but when she's granted a nod, albeit a hesitant one, Charlotte continues. "Then please believe me when I say, you have all the answers, Sash. I know it might sound like I'm talking crazy here, but I think the reason you're still having these dreams is because you're hanging on."

"I don't want to..." Sasha whispers as she shakes her head. Even as she speaks, her voice sounds unconvincing even on her own ears. "I don't want to hang on."

"I think you do. You just have to tell yourself that it's okay to hang on. And it is, Sasha. It is okay."

Sasha is hitting down hard on her bottom lip that the act is painful. She looks down at her hands that are now grasping one another so tight, she can see the strain happening against the skin of her knuckles. "I'm scared..." a pause as she tries to gather her words. "I'm scared something's going to happen."

"I won't let it." Charlotte reaches out and takes one of Sasha's hands in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze as she casts a small but reassuring smile. "I promise."

Sasha nods shakily before ducking her head. "I'm sorry...for earlier. I didn't mean...well I did, I think but I...I'm sorry. It's all just so confusing right now."

"It's okay. You've been through a lot and you don't have to apologize for that." Charlotte's voice carries reassurance as she pushes off of the couch and stands once again. "I should probably be—"

"Can I ask you something else?" Sasha quickly cuts in, sounding a bit anxious as she rushes to speak be for she loses her nerve. Seeing Charlotte waiting expectantly, she begins to fiddle her hands in her lap before she continues. "You absolutely reserve the right to say no, but I was wondering if it was okay if I...if you could...can I see it?"

Charlotte is left frowning in confusion until she tracks Sasha's eyes and her gaze eventually falls to right around her own shoulder. Her eyes widen momentarily and when she looks up, she's just a bit surprised to find Sasha still watching her almost expectantly. "Ah, Sasha...I don't know. You really don't wanna see any of that."

"Please? I don't know why I need to. I wish I could explain it but I just...please?"

Pursing her lips, Charlotte eventually nods. She sighs quietly through her nose as she pulls her arms out of the sleeve of her shirt. She hesitates for a second before she's pulling the whole thing over her head entirely. She's left clutching the garment tightly in one hand as she's left standing in only her bra to cover her top half.

Sasha knows which one it is immediately. Her eyes do roam but only for a second as she's reminded of the very first time she saw the angry marred canvas that made up Becky's body. She can only internally shake her head as she can only imagine the god awful horrors that would leave behind such markings.

She hadn't even really realized that her feet carried her across the room until she's standing directly in front of Charlotte once again. She briefly looks up, silently asking for permission before she reaches out and her fingers carefully find the raised skin that is no doubt the entry point of a bullet. She carefully traces the scar, frowning as she notices it transition into a clean cut line to another entry point right around Charlotte's heart.

"The surgical scar makes it look worse than it is." Charlotte laughs quietly. "Steph kind of had to cut me open to get to the rest of it."

"I'm so sorry..." Sasha whispers, shaking her head as she's unable to look away from the bullet scar.

"Hey. If it weren't for you and Becks, it could've been a lot worse. I'm here, aren't I?" Offering Sasha another grin, Charlotte steps back and pulls her shirt back over her head. "I've ah...I think I have to go."

Sasha nods in understanding. "You said you were working right?"

Charlotte just barely holds back a grimace. "I was..."

"Charlotte, again...about before—"

"Hey. Don't worry about it. Just promise you'll think about what I said?"

Sasha can only offer a tiny smile in return as she nods. "Promise."

The two don't say much more behind that, but they do share a hug that's lingering and full of mutual understanding. Once finally alone in her apartment, Sasha only retreats back to her sofa where she curls up as small as humanly possible. Maybe if she stays like that for a while she will disappear, and she won't have to think about anything that's been said to her tonight.

* * *

"I've got to be the biggest fucking idiot..." Charlotte mumbles darkly to herself as she stalks through the parking lot of Sasha's apartment.

Her hands are tucked deeply into her pockets as she continues muttering unintelligibly to herself, occasionally interrupting herself with an irritable huff. In lieu of reaching for her keys, she instead pulls out her phone to take a quick glance at the time and she's left cursing in a hiss as she realizes just how long it's been that she's been gone. What she also notices, is the fact that she hasn't gotten a single call or text since she stepped away.

"Jesus Christ..." she mumbles, rooting for her keys as she approaches her SUV.

She unlocks it and has just put her hand in the handle when she hears a familiar click and suddenly there's the feeling of cold metal pressed into the back of her head. She freezes and the hands on the back of her neck stand up as she doesn't even move to pull her hand away from the door handle. It's only after a few seconds of agonizing silence that she knows, and though she doesn't exactly relax, her shoulders do fall just slightly.

"Turn around."

Charlotte's eyes briefly roll to the sky before she does as she's told, keeping her movements slow and steady as she does so. When she turns around, she finds herself staring down the dark barrel of a gun, but her eyes don't stay there for long. Instead, her gaze finds the dark, cold stare of its owner and though she doesn't show it, Charlotte does feel a chill travel down her spine.

"Answer something for me, Charlie. Honestly. Did you _honestly_ think I wasn't gonna find out?"

"Becky, it's not—" Charlotte only gets so many words out before she finds herself harshly smack across the face with the gun.

"Was a 'yes' or 'no' question," Becky's eyes only continues to darken as she keeps her gun level and steady just between Charlotte's eyes. "Give me your keys."

Still smarting from the shot the the face, Charlotte works her jaw as she holds out the hand holding her keys only for them to be snatched from her. "Becks—"

"Shut up." Becky remains cold and oddly collected as she walks Charlotte to the passenger seat where she opens the door and unceremoniously gives the other woman a harsh shove inside. She retreats to the drivers side of the SUV where she climbs in and once again levels her gun at Charlotte's head. "You move, you're fucking dead. Got that?"

Charlotte only opts to sit in silence as she's driven out of the parking garage.

* * *

Becky's driving is as erratic as it is angry as she expertly weaves in and out of nighttime traffic. She's maintained one hand on the steering wheel while the other still steadily holds her gun in place and pointed to the opposite side of the car. Occasionally, she'll glance out the corner of her eye to find the other woman watching her carefully despite the gun that's still level at her head.

Tires screech as she makes a harsh right turn into another dark parking garage. Her foot presses down on the accelerator as she drives up the levels at a dangerous speed. She clicks a button on the steering wheel and the gate restricting the last level rolls open, granting them access to the very top of the garage. It's the top level of the garage that sits adjacent to the hotel she owns, and only a handful of select individuals, present company includes, have access to the top where sits the helipad. Many days and nights of business have been conducted atop this very garage and it appears that this night is no different.

Throwing the SUV into park, Becky doesn't even bother turning it off as she quickly darts out of the driver's seat. She moves around to the passenger side and climbs the door open. She grabs a fistful of Charlotte's jacket and drags her out of the vehicle before giving her a harsh shove.

"Walk."

Charlotte sighs quietly and again, does as she's told as Becky walks her towards the very edge of the garage. The wind is rushing in her ears as she peers over the concrete edge and she looks at the jumbled lights that make up the city several stories below. She clicks her tongue as she hears Becky's footsteps come to a halt only a few paces away.

"So...you brought me all the way up here just to toss me over the edge?" She raises her eyebrows as she straightens up and turns back to find Becky once again aiming a gun at her.

"That smart ass charm of yours isn't gonna work for you right now. If anything, it'll work against you." Becky sets her jaw. "How long?"

Charlotte slowly shakes her head. "How long what?"

Becky rolls her eyes and hisses. "Don't! Don't fucking act like you don't know what I'm asking. How long have you been seeing her? How long..." if possible, her expression darkens as her voice transitions into a bitter hiss of disgust. "How long have you been _screwing_ her?"

Immediately, Charlotte is shaking her head. "Okay, _nothing_ like that has happened."

"You're lying. You're fucking lying. You're lying to me." Becky closes the distance between them in two strides as she once again grabs hold of Charlotte's jacket. She holds onto it tightly while harshly pressing her gun just underneath the side of Charlotte's chin. Her breathing is ragged and her words are hissed around tightly grit teeth. "Don't fucking lie to me. How long?" When she doesn't get a response in the timely manner she expects, she delivery's a harsh punch to the other woman's abdomen, now pressing the gun against the side of her head as she doubles over in pain. "Answer me! How fucking long!"

Charlotte grunts and tries to grit her teeth through the pain shooting through her stomach. While she has the other woman bested in size, one thing she'll never get past is how Becky has always somehow seemed to hit like a fucking freight train. Clutching her stomach with one arm, she glares at Becky out of the corner of her eye while taking a few staggered breaths.

"Nothing like that has happened, Becky. I wouldn't do that." She shakes her head as she silently begins to wonder if that one punch was enough to fracture a rib. "I have been seeing her, but it's only been to check on her. She's really struggling, Becks."

"That's not your job. It's not _your_ fucking job to do that!"

"Isn't it though? Isn't that what _you_ told me to do back when all this started!? Protect her like I fucking protect you!?" Charlotte finally straightens up. "And who would be there for her if it wasn't me? Who's she gonna talk to about what happened? Her friends? You? She's fucking terrified of you!"

Becky's resolve cracks just a fraction, but it's immediately replaced by her prior coldness. However this time, it's laced with a small sense of desperation. "Shut up." She hisses, her hold on her gun wavering just slightly. "You wanted her for yourself..."

Charlotte tilts her head back and groans. "God Becky, I didn't and I don't!"

"Then why else would you be hiding this from me!?" Becky scoffs bitterly as her rage is beginning to get the best of her. "I should have let you bleed out in that basement."

"And then you wouldn't be here right now, because you would have drank yourself dead a long time ago." Charlotte responds firmly. She doesn't take the coldly spoken statement personally as she's known Becky long enough to know that she is only talking out of her anger. Hell, she can pretty much _see_ it with the way Becky is starting to shake by the second.

"There is _nothing_ between me and Sasha. I'm only there because she's scared Becky, and you and I both know that after what she's seen, she doesn't deserve to sit there and go through that by herself. Look, you're right. I should've said something to you about it, but can you honestly stand there and say you can't see why I didn't? Look at you, Becky."

Becky squeezes her eyes shut for a second and shakes her head. "Don't! Don't do that. Don't fucking patronize me and act like you know what this is all about. Don't act like you fucking know what it's like living like...like _this_."

"Look at you," Charlotte says again with a slow shake of her head. "She's terrified of you. She's terrified of Becky Lynch—"

"Shut up!"

"But you need to show her that that's not real. That Becky Lynch is only someone that _you_ made up to protect yourself."

"Shut your fucking mouth—"

"Because she still loves you. Despite all of that she still fucking loves you and if you ask me, she deserves all of you. You both do."

Becky roars and surges forward, pushing Charlotte back this time further over the edge. Her chest and shoulders heave and her vision around her eyes darkens in her rage. Her eyes are wild and unfocused and in front of her, she doesn't see her best friend. She doesn't see the woman who's stood by her side for years past. In Becky's mind, she only sees betrayal.

With a gun at her neck and halfway suspended over the edge of the parking garage, Charlotte remains calm as she searches Becky's eyes. She can see the pain and conflicting emotions as it swirls in her best friend's eyes. The anguish that has been brought on by events of the past, both recent and long ago.

"Becky..."

She's cut off by a familiar buzzing coming from her jacket. Both of their eyes dart down and before Charlotte can even attempt to move, Becky acts first and is quickly snatching her phone from her pocket. Charlotte can only watch with widened eyes as Becky steps away from her, not even bothering to look at the device as she answers it and puts it to her ear.

* * *

"Charlie?" Sasha worries her bottom lip as she has her phone pressed against her ear.

She had had been looking for her purse I'm her apartment when she remembered she must have left it in her car in her haste to get inside upon her return from the grocery store earlier in the evening. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary as she trekked through the parking garage, but it wasn't until she had retrieved her purse and moved to go back upstairs that she noticed a scarily familiar Range Rover parked only a few spaces away.

Her heart had seized for a moment and though it was her first instinct to run, she hadn't been able to get her legs to do so. Instead, she had done the only thing she could think of and as she fumbled with her phone, she only hoped at the time that Charlotte hadn't been too far.

* * *

_"Charlie, can you hear me?"_

Becky's eyes are wide as she listens to the other woman's voice filtering through the phone. The phone shakes in her hand and even the hand pointing the gun has been dropped just slightly.

_"Charlotte?"_

Becky's jaw works but words don't come. Only a noise that comes across as a sharp but shirt intake of air.

* * *

Frown fading, Sasha's eyes go wide.

"...Becky?"

* * *

Hearing her name in the other woman's voice, even over the phone, has Becky's heart stuttering to a stop.

"S-Sash..."

* * *

Sasha squeaks and ends the call, letting her phone fall from her grasp as if it had burned her. She stares at it as it clatters to the ground, watching it carefully as if waiting for the inanimate object to make a move on its own. Eventually, she's left letting out a bated breath and she presses a hand to her rapidly beating heart as she bends down to pick up her phone. She does a quick glance around before she's quickly dashing from the garage to make it back to her apartment.

* * *

As the call ends, Becky is left staring blankly at the dark scene of the phone in her hand. It falls limply at her side, and as she turns, she almost looks surprised to find the gun she's still pointing at the woman only a few paces away. Her eyes are wide as she stares between Charlotte and the gun, and it eventually falls from her grip and lands with an audible clatter against the concrete.

Becky stares at her gun for the longest before she looks back up at Charlotte who is watching her closely. Shaking her head, Becky drags her hands through her hair, gripping tightly at the roots as she backs away. With her eyes widened to the size of saucers and her skin ghostly pale, she retreats back to the driver's side of the SUV where she quickly climbs in and slams the door behind her. Tires squeal against the payment as she floors the engine and quickly speeds towered the exit ramp.

Left alone at the top of the garage, Charlotte's legs halfway give out as her nerves finally get the best of her. She just barely has enough wherewithal to lean over the concrete edge, just before she empties the contents of her stomach.

* * *

"No...not tonight, but tomorrow. I really want you to come over tomorrow. Just you." Sasha pauses and sighs through her nose.

"I-I know I said I would and I haven't and I know I'm not in the position to ask you for anything, but please?"

Another pause.

"Carmella, _please?_ " Sasha bites her lip and after yet another long wait, she lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I promise I'll—"

Sasha pulls her phone away only to find the call had been abruptly ended, which isn't to her surprise at all. After the exchange in her kitchen and Sasha's more or less unkept promise, she's not at all surprised by the iciness she's received from her friend. Being honest, she's surprised Carmella even answered her call in the first place.

Having given up on making dinner for the night, Sasha had simply ordered takeout instead. After everything that had happened, she simply wasn't in the mood or even the right headspace to try and out a meal together anymore. Truth be told, she honestly hasn't started shaking the met she stepped foot back into her apartment.

She's scrolling through her phone, her thumb hovering over the contact number of her best friend who she hasn't had a deep connection with in months. She's once again overrun with guilt that she hasn't even been able to rationalize for one second, no matter how many times she's tried both to herself and out loud. She knows it's unfair, but for right now, somethings are just better left unsaid to certain people.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. She heads for it without second thoughts as she grabs her purpose along the way. She's already halfway rooting for tip for the delivery driver when she opens the door, and when she looks up, she's immediately startled. Her purse slips from her fingers and falls at her feet, but it's the least she's worried about as her heart begins to pick up.

"What...what are you..." Sasha's breathing is becoming labored as she takes about a half step back. "What are you doing here?"

On the other side of the threshold stands Becky. She has one arm braced against the doorway for support and her expression is pained and almost broken. For a second, she feels like she's in a dream and she's afraid to even move for fear of ruining it and waking herself up.

"I-I don't know..." Becky's voice is hoarse and strange to even herself as she speaks. "I wanted to...no." She shakes her head. "I _needed_ to. I needed to see you."

Sasha swallows thickly, shaking her head as she slowly continues to back away. It's a split second decision that has her reaching out and closing the door as she does so. She returns to the door rather quickly, frantically securing the locks before she's quickly backing away once again.

"Please don't be real...please don't be real..." Sasha murmurs to herself over and over again as she shakes her head.

From the outside, Becky sighs and rests her forehead against the wood. She raises her fist to gently knock, but she's not to least bit surprised when there's no answer or even any sounds of movements from the other side. Yet, somehow Becky knows she's still there.

"You don't have to let me in. I can understand why you won't."

Still silence.

Signing. Becky makes the decision to slowly lower herself to the ground. She sits back against the doorframe and crosses her legs before leaning against the door once again.

"I don't know if you're still there...or if you've gone away. But if you're still where you can hear me..."

Becky pauses and takes a shaky breath as she is shot back to that night where she laid herself bare in front of Sasha in her apartment. The night where she told her mostly everything about who she was. That was scariest night of her life and as scarily similar as it is to this very moment right now, Becky somehow finds this all the more terrifying.

Tears find her eyes as she presses her head against Sasha's closed door once again.

"If you can hear me and if you're willing to listen...I'm hoping you'll stay just long enough to hear what I have to say." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always :D see you in the next chap!


	15. Chapter 15

For her entire life she’s been all too familiar with being on the other side of a closed door. Her eyes slip closed and her inner chest seizes as she recalls those frozen nights where she sat in this very position; knees drawn up to her chin and her hands clasped tightly. She recalls the way she had sat there for hours upon hours, sometimes days as she listened for any signs of movement on the other side that would give even the slightest of indications that she would be let out if for just a little bit.

The winters where the water heater was broken were always the worst. The iciness of the air would settle deep in her bones and the only scratchy blanket she was allotted did absolutely nothing to alleviate that. She learned early on that asking to be let out only made things much worse than they already were, if that was even a possibility, but asking one time too many and the beating she received for it after was enough to shut her up about it.

But she’s not there anymore. She’s not in Dublin, locked away in that creaky cupboard just off the kitchen that only houses a water heater and a tiny thin mattress. Yet, somehow, the corridor she presently resides in hold a similar chill. It’s an iciness that settles deep in her bones, only on this particular night the air is still and warm. It can only be attributed to the iciness in which she was shut out, and unlike her life of the past, _this_ she knows she deserves.

“I never apologized for it,” Becky’s voice is rough as she begins. She lets her head rest against the door again, ears listening for literally any sign of movement on the other side. “Everything happened so quickly and afterwards we just…” she takes a shuddering breath. “We never talked about it. About what happened. I never gave you the chance to ask me anything you might have wanted to know, and I never just sat back and listened and I’m sorry. Sasha, I’m _sorry_.”

For a moment, Becky has to stop as the events of the year past comes rushing back. The images play out behind her eyes like a horror film and she has no control over what can be stopped or rewound. “I don’t know what happened to you, okay? I don’t know what happened and I think all of this time maybe I was pretending that I did because that made it easier, but it was only making it easier for _me_. ‘Cause you know, my whole life I’ve just kinda had to forget, you know? I took things and I buried them and that’s how I dealt with it. I couldn’t confront it because that meant I had to confront a weakness that I had worked my whole life to erase. So, in my mind I thought, if I just bury it, it all goes away. It all gets fixed. That’s what worked for me, so why didn’t it work like that for everybody else?”

“But that’s what I imagine it’s like to live, isn’t it? To stand in front of things and take them as they are, no matter how bad it might be. I wasn’t living, not like you were. I-I didn’t know what it was like to live until I met you.”

That night in club comes rushing back, and Becky who isn’t a big believer in fate, remembers the exact moment she laid eyes on the woman that would completely tilt her world on its axis. Maybe fate is real? Because what if she had been a few seconds early or just maybe a few seconds too late that she just might have missed out on the best thing that has ever happened to her. She just might not have known what it actually meant to live for something.

“You were so full of life when I met you. You were _so_ happy and your world was so bright…and you burned so bright in mine. I just—I had to know what it was like and you showed me that. You showed me what it was like to live, Sasha, and you gave me something to live for. I thought it would be easy, you know? I had never been in love before, and nobody’s ever loved me. I really thought it would be easy and I wanted it. I wanted it _so fucking bad_ , Sash it was killing me. Every single day I would wake up with this feeling in my chest, this tugging that just wouldn’t go away until I was able to talk to you. Then I’d hear your voice and that feeling would turn into this warmth and at the time I didn’t know what it was. I was so focused on keeping everything under my thumb that I didn’t take the time to try and figure it out, and it wasn’t until things were starting to get bad that I actually said it.”

Taking a deep breath, Becky drags her hands over her face where she’s made aware of the wetness that now stains her cheeks. Standing on wobbly legs, she’s leaning forward to rest her forehead against the door as she gently braces a hand against the door. “Sasha, if you’re there…if you’re still listening, I want you to know, I’m sorry, and I don’t mean just what happened. I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry you had to be the one who…” her voice catches, and cracks and her resolve breaks completely as she tries her best to breath and maintain the last thin shred of composure that’s been holding her together this entire time. “I’m not sorry for loving you, but I’m sorry you had to fall in love with me…”

The silence that follows is a heavy weight on her shoulder, with only her own shallow breathing echoing in her ears. She hadn’t been expecting a single thing. She knows she doesn’t have any right to, but that doesn’t stop it from being so painful it almost hurts to breathe.

For so long she’s spent day in and day out moving around like a corpse. Every night she has been having some sort of rendition of the same dream. Whenever she goes to close her eyes and lay her head to rest, she always senses _someone_ in the darkness floating far above her. She can’t see anything, but for such a moment she wonders if maybe, just _maybe_ she can use the eyes of whoever is with her. What she sees through the entity’s eyes is terrifying. She’s left looking up a concerned faces all distorted and frightening as they stare down at her. Each and every time she has the dream, she feels that someone is dying, and Becky is getting scared that it might be her.

The locks turning are an echo in the very back of her mind and she jolts away from the door. She waits with bated breath only for there to be nothing. For so long nothing happens, and she can only resign that she must have imagined it. She brings a hand up, tightly gripping the hair at the back of her head as she takes another step back. Her arms eventually fall limply at her sides and her head ducks in full realization. How can someone be dying, when in fact they’re most likely already dead?

That’s it. She must be dead. That’s the only explanation that rationalizes the door creeping open just a crack. That _must_ be it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be seeing the scared, pensive eyes peering at her through the just barely visible crack of the door.

She hadn’t thought this through _at all_. In truth, her entire life has been a blur for as long as she can remember, and she doesn’t even remember the trip she must have taken to get here in the first place. But she certainly hadn’t through what she would do if she was even granted the grace and mercy to even get to this point. Yet here she is with absolutely no idea where to go next. Her feet remain rooted to the spot and she’s terrified to move a muscle out of fear that this is just another trick and she’s not being punished in her own personal section of hell.

They remain staring at each other just like that. With Becky frozen stiff in the very center of the corridor and Sasha offering very little of herself as possible from the other side of her door. For Becky, she doesn’t want to ask, she doesn’t have the _right_ to ask, but god she can’t help it if she’s now dying to know if she had been there the whole time.

In that moment she feels like that kid again. The kid that’s wide eyed and dumb who got her first taste of the world when she was nothing more than this skinny funny looking teen who no one would dare take a chance on, but a gaggle of gangsters did anyway. She feels exposed and small and lost beyond words as she lifts a hand in the shakiest and most hesitant of waves.

For Sasha, she can only stare as the woman in her hallway looks like nothing short of a ghost and she’s jarred of the familiarity she has found haunting her in her own reflection. Only on Becky, there’s something she doesn’t quiet see in herself. While Sasha has been left to feel like she’s running nonstop, Becky looks like she’s given up. It’s like she’s resigned herself into waiting for the inevitable, and the dark hollowness in her eyes only speak as if waiting for something that’s final and irreversible.

Swallowing thickly, Sasha examines the other woman carefully. “Do you…do you have anything on you?” she asks, her voice quiet and tentative as she does so.

Becky doesn’t need to ask for any clarification as she carefully lifts both of her hands. “No I…I don’t,” she wets her lips as she’s made aware of just how dry they’ve become in the short amount of time she hasn’t been speaking. “I don’t have anything on me.”

Nodding, Sasha appears to take a dep breath as she closes the door once again. There’s rattling on the other side of the door, and this time when it opens, it’s without the resistance chain. The doorway is empty, and the door is left open just a bit wider as it silently grants an entrance.

Becky’s footsteps are slow and hesitant as she moves towards the open door. She pauses just beyond the threshold and as she peers inside, she’s suddenly met with the overwhelming feeling to run away. Somehow, she manages to suppress that feeling just enough to will her through the door.

The living room is empty when she steps inside, and though she’s unsure that she should, she carefully closes the door behind her. Her heart is nearly in her throat as she glances around the familiarity of the room. That same familiarity is what secures a vice around her heart when her gaze lands on the couch. Many nights she’s been in this apartment and the many more nights spent together on that very couch. The only source of light had been the television as they sat tangled up close with one another, the movie having been long forgotten as Becky had only been able to focus on the woman she held tightly in her arms. It was a simpler time then. A time when she had been able to successful fool herself into believing that she deserved what everyone else had. That she deserved this type of normalcy.

Hearing footsteps shuffling from the hall, Becky looks up and when Sasha appears in the entryway to the hall, her eyebrows slowly lift. Her gaze darts quickly between Sasha and the piece she’s clutching tightly. For the most part it’s angled down at the floor, but upon looking closely, Becky can easily see how it shakes in the other woman’s grasp.

“I know how to use it.” Sasha announces, her voice sounding as though Becky is not the only person she’s trying to convince. “Charlotte taught me. I know how to use it.”

Becky’s tenses just slightly, but she only nods carefully. “Okay…” she continues to nod as she keeps her voice quiet. “What do you plan to do with it?”

Sasha glances down at the gun in her hand and she stares at it for a long moment. “I’m not sure…” she whispers so quietly that it’s nearly missed on even her own ears. She takes a calming deep breath and squares her shoulders enough to look back at the woman standing in her living room. “You’re sorry?”

Becky can only nod and Sasha follows with a short and bitter laugh.

“You’re sorry. You being _sorry_ doesn’t take away anything that happened. It doesn’t take away…it doesn’t take away that you lied. You _lied_.” Sasha shakes her head. “It doesn’t take away that I stopped seeing the woman I killed. Every time I close my eyes I only see _you_. You’ve been torturing me nonstop and no matter how bad I think I want to just wish it all away, I can’t.”

Sasha’s heart begins to beat wildly in her chest and she’s quickly shaking her head as the tears spring to her eyes while recalling some of her most horrid memories. Thing’s she’s kept tightly secured away under lock and key because no one else needed to know. No one needed to know what happened, because like Becky, if she locks it away it doesn’t exist. Putting it in a box within a box within a box is the only way she had been able to deal with it. Until she came back, and it’s like that band-aid was ripped off and she was forced to start over from scratch.

“They tortured me…” she whispers hoarsely, her eyes glazing over as she gets lost in the memory. “Hours? Days? I can’t even tell you how long it was, but it felt like it was never gonna stop. They kept asking me…over and over again about things I didn’t even know about. Things I didn’t even _understand_ and when I answered right? It startled all over.”

Tilting her head back, Sasha blinks in an attempt to stave off her tears despite a few having escaped her eyes and slowly begin to trial down her cheeks. “You know when I was there…after a while I started wishing I was dead. Because even if someone came for me, even if _you_ came for me, how was I going to live with that? My life was forever changed, and that didn’t even have anything to do with me.”

Becky had only been able to assume as to what might have happened in that warehouse basement. Her imagination could only go just a bit further as she had listened to Stephanie explain the extent of Sasha’s injuries. All of that had been based on inference and she’s finding that it’s nothing compared to the cold, unsettling aura that accompanies the words coming from Sasha herself.

“She would drown me and take me to the edge of death before bringing me back. All I could do was ask what I did. What did _I_ do.” Sasha feels her fingers beginning to grow cold and numb from the now vicelike grip she has on the gun. When she looks up this time, for the first time, she finds Becky’s eyes directly and this time, she doesn’t look away.

“Why?” She whispers, her voice soft and pleading. “Why me?”

“I can’t answer that,” Becky is honest and straight forward as she takes a careful step around the sofa to the spot where Sasha hadn’t entirely moved into the living room. She pauses just only a few feet away and she holds her hands out bare. “I can’t answer the why, all I know is that I’ve never wanted anyone the way I wanted you and I can’t even…I’m sorry isn’t enough. I’m sorry won’t take away what I did, and it won’t fix everything that I _didn’t_ do.”

“Who are you?” The gun is trembling so much that it nearly slips from Sasha’s grasp. Her heart jumps just a bit as Becky moves to inch just a bit closer, yet somehow, she doesn’t find herself moving away. “Who are you, Becky?”

Reaching a steady hand out, Becky carefully grasps the barrel of the gun and she is met with little to no resistance as she carefully pries it from Sasha’s grasp. She blindly reaches over and places the gun on the nearby countertop.

“I’m whoever you need me to be…”

Sasha is only mildly aware of the fingers that gently graze her wrists. She gasps quietly at the warmth of Becky’s fingers against her wrist. “Becky…”

Swallowing thickly, Becky takes a chance as she inches in just a bit closer. “Sash, I…I’m so sorry.”

Alarm bells are going off in Sasha’s head as she reaches out and tightly grabs hold of the hand Becky had been moving to rest against her cheek. With her breathing unsteady, she continues to hold onto Becky’s hand, her grip tightening by the second.

As if being pulled in by a magnetic pole, Becky is internally shaken by hold on her hand. She gazes deeply into Sasha’s eyes, unmoving and unblinking as everything has fallen quiet except for their own uneven breathing that happens at an alternate. She closes her eyes and lets out a quiet sigh as she finds her own hand eventually released where it gently rests against Sasha’s cheek.

The blaring bells only seem to get louder in Sasha’s mind as they’re drawn to one another. She feels her breath stalls as she soon finds Becky’s forehead resting against her own and for a moment, everything is the way it should be. She’s allowed to fool herself into thinking that everything that had happened _didn’t_ and she’s been granted a second chance at living her life the way she wants.

“I’m sorry…”

“Becky…”

“I’m so sorry…”

It’s a mantra that’s repeated over and over again even as their trembling lips brush for the first time. It’s light and tentative and so brief that the first touch is something that both of them could have easily imagined. It’s Sasha who gaps quietly, pulling back just slightly as she looks at Becky through half-lidded eyes.

It will forever remain a mystery who moves first. Perhaps they will both live to regret it later, but none of that matters now as suddenly everything feels like a passionate attack. They’re a mess of lips and teeth, biting and clawing against one another. It’s as Sasha grips the fabric of Becky’s jacket so tight she almost rips it that they merge as one for the first time in what feels like forever.

* * *

It’s dark when Becky opens her eyes and for a split second, she comes to a near panic as she doesn’t initially know where she is. It’s not the first time that has happened and it certainly won’t be the last, only this time, something is left to feel a bit different. It feels almost heavy as her eyes dart around the dark ceiling while everything else swirls into her conscious being. 

Sitting up, she braces her hands against the mattress, her fingers sinking deep in the sheets as she turns to find the woman to her right sound sleep. For a moment, Becky thinks she actually _is_ dead as this somehow feels more torturous than any one nightmare she’s had before. Everything had felt so real and there’s not much more of this she can take that won’t have her going even more mad. Except it’s no dream, and she finds out as such when she reaches out and gently brushes Sasha’s hair away from her forehead. Everything comes rushing back as if she had been previously splashed with ice water.

They hadn’t managed to get anywhere as Sasha had pulled away, clutching her tightly as she finally broke. It was all Becky could do but to hold her as she screamed until her voice was raw. Becky could only nod and utter her own unintelligible apologies as Sasha alternated between clutching her jacket and haplessly hitting her shoulder.

It was when Sasha had physically exhausted herself that Becky made the decision to carry her to her room. She had just laid her down and was preparing to sneak away when Sasha had reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. Becky can’t say she’s entirely sure Sasha had been at all awake when she had quietly whispered the word ‘stay’.

And Becky had.

But she knows she shouldn’t. Not right now.

Swallowing thickly, she edges her way off the bed. Retrieving her jacket that she had carefully laid over the edge, she slides into it all the while carefully eyeing Sasha as she continues to sleep soundly. Becky only hangs her head as she quietly shuffles her way to Sasha’s side of the bed where she kneels down and brushes a thumb across her forehead.

“Christ, Sash…” she whispers quietly, taking a chance as she leans forward and gently brushes her lips against Sasha’s cheek.

Straightening up, she keeps her footsteps even and quiet, taking one last glance towards the bed as she leaves the room and quietly closes the door behind her.


End file.
